He isn’t in my pelvis. He isn’t against my bladder. His feet aren’t in my ribs. He isn’t pushing his brother. He isn’t within me. He isn’t in my arms. And I miss him more than my body or mind can possibly comprehend.
But he is getting stronger day by day (technically, no longer hypoglycemic), eating like a champ, and gaining lots weight. It’s just a matter getting the sugar boost he would have gotten had his placenta not given out on him. My days are spent with only just enough time to feed one, pump for the other, shuttle to and from the hospital (a three-hour cycle day and night). It’s tough on all of us, especially my poor transitioning girls. And each time we’re asked, “When will he be home?” my heart breaks all over again. I wish I could avoid using any combination of the following words – no, home, come, ready, glucose, stabilize, here, NICU, we, don’t, know. In the meantime, my family is incomplete without him. In spite of the usual chaos and the amazingly sweet, perfect, baby love, I can think of nothing else. When he comes home I will be at peace and I promise to say so.
We’re grateful to our friends and family for all their support during this challenging time. xo