It's just after 3 am and Miller is resting peacefully on my chest. I hate to put him down right after he eats since he has reflux, and then I hate to wake him...so I end up holding him for a long, long time. You can't spoil a baby, especially one who spent the first 11 weeks of his life in the NICU away from his momma. Although, I am certainly trying. Yesterday he hit the 12 week mark and next Thursday he will be full term. I'm amazed at how fast and how slow it went by and how we made it through when at times I was sure it would break me.
We have each other. We have prayer. And we have a ton of support. Real support. Not just 'call me if you need anything' support. It has been surprising, and essential. Almost none of our relationships have remained unchanged, a wonderful byproduct of a harrowing experience.
Dad is sound asleep since he's on in just 2 hours at 5 am. I love watching both of them sleep. During these late night feedings I am left alone with my thoughts and I can't remember what it was that I was doing before I met my husband and before Miller made his grand entrance. I feel the weight of it when I wake up with a start and quickly check his breathing, apnea monitor or not. He smells good. Sweet oil (and sometimes sour milk). Except for his toes...they smell exactly like sour apples, which he clearly did not get from me.
He is a peaceful baby. He lets us know when he's uncomfortable, usually reflux or gas related. But mostly he is muy contento. When he's upset I sing to him. I make up new words to the tunes of traditional lullabies, and sometimes turn rap songs into Miller songs, changing the words to fit him. I marvel at how natural this feels, how easy it is to comfort him. And how wonderful it is that it is me he needs (dad too, but this is my post).
Today we have a break from the doctor appts. We saw the neurosurgeon yesterday and we go back to the pedi tomorrow. So far, all of the doctors are returning good news which is a relief. We don't go back to see the neurosurgeon for six months. What? Is that possible? Maybe. We will continue to pray, pray, pray, and we will start whatever therapy, early intervention, etc as soon as we can. We'll never know what challenges he'll face until he faces them, so we'll do everything in our power to give him a leg up in the meantime.
What I have learned so far is that there is no perfect. No perfect pregnancy. No perfect birth. No perfect C-section, or hospital stay. It is what it is as they say. They also say everything happens for a reason. Which believe me, you do not want to hear when your 2 pounder is holed up in the NICU due to some unidentified, unknown, unexplained infection that caused your water to break and is 'not your fault'. So you turn to your faith, which now has an entirely new meaning now that you really need it. And what you end up with is somehow perfect for you.
The papparazzi in me has taken over-look for new photos very soon...
Love to you all,
Momma + Miller Lee