Lately I’ve been thinking back to when I first saw my son. I met him twice before I really met him. Let me explain. My son was first introduced to me as they were rushing him to the NICU and they were putting me under, I don’t remember it at all. Luckily my husband was able to snap a couple of pictures when it happened. After they put me all back together, they wheeled the gurney into the NICU for me to see him. I was still coming off of the anesthesia and barely remember this. I do remember them trying to fit the gurney between all those precious boxes caring for little babies, but I don’t really remember seeing my son.
My husband and I are sincerely lucky in that we are surrounded by family and friends that love and support us. I think this is something often taken for granted and not entirely realized until times of struggle. So when we announced that our much awaited son was in the NICU we had an outpouring of support. Continue reading
Every day for those few weeks our son was in the NICU started the same for my husband and I. We would get up at 6am, grab what I called the nipple bag*, grabbed Dunkin’, and drove the half hour to the hospital. Then park, wave at the guard on our way in, and take the elevator to the ninth floor. We would wash our hands and then press the call button so they could let us in.
And then we’d take the walk. Continue reading