The little joys that shine so bright

You know when you have an overall good week but a few bad things pop up and that's all you can focus on?  Well, that was my week.

On Thursday I met my Dad for lunch at a local restaurant and we happened to be seated next to a family with a brand new baby boy.  Most people would find that sweet and exciting to see the little baby.  It was heartwrenching for me to hear his cries and see them pass the baby from one person to another.  I came home, sobbed, and decided as long as that was the mood, I would pack my maternity clothes away.  This was a huge hurdle for me.  I can't explain why, but just knowing I should still be wearing those clothes that protect the body that should be still carrying baby Ethan, well, it's just a tough one.  So next time I think I'll just shove wood chips under my fingernails for the same effect.

Over the weekend we had several little "hiccups" at the hospital that caused me frustration, anger, tears, and every other emotion on the rainbow.  But yesterday afternoon I was reading the wise blog of a friend and saw that she too had a rough situation at hand.  But instead of throwing a big fit (which tends to be my solution), she focused on the wonderful little things that make the world so bright.

What an inspiration!  So I thought about all of the amazing moments we had in the past several days.

- Trent jumping into my arms and just about knocking me onto the sidewalk after school when I picked him up.

- Ethan moving his eyes from one blurry form to the other, knowing that one is Mommy and the other is Daddy.  

- Watching his little angelic lips as they create an involuntary smile when he's sleeping.

- Feeling the cool north breeze as it blows in some of the first winds of autumn.

- Seeing the pictures of a friend who had a milestone birthday and charged through it with pride and a smile.

- Sitting down with my husband for a real dinner date over the weekend while visiting Topeka.

- Receiving text messages, emails, and Facebook posts from friends who are offering their hearts and so much more to our little family while we face some of these problems.

- Listening to football on the radio and rejoicing in the hometown win.

- The smell of Ethan's baby lotion as I rubbed it all over his tender skin.

- Knowing that just a few more days and weeks, and then we'll have an amazing homecoming with our sweet baby boy.

The list could go on forever.  So why is it that our minds focus on the few bad things in life, as if they outweigh the continuous joy we experience?  I can't commit to always focusing on the good, because we'll certainly have times where the darkness seems to drown out the light, but with a few deep breaths and a prayerful heart, I know that the joys will outshine any heartache that comes into our path.

Ethan's One Month Video

One day...

One day this season will be behind us.

…our lives won't consist of driving 135 miles one way to see our son.

… our hands won't be dried out from the continuous use of hospital soap and antibacterial foam.

…we'll eat home cooked meals around our dinner table rather than choosing a different restaurant for every meal.

… we'll delete the NICU phone number from our cell phones.

… the microwave will beep and won't remind us of the alarms and monitors connected to our baby.

… we won't buy a toy each time we go to Wal-Mart with our 5 year old just because we feel guilty for being away from him so much.

…our friends will remember what we look like.

…we'll be home on the weekends and be able to return to church and feel the embraces of our church family.  

One day the tidal waves of happiness, sadness, anger, guilt, frustration, and euphoria will pass.

… I won't have to stifle the cries and tears that come so unexpectedly like at the dinner table, in the check out line, or at night when everybody else is asleep.

…the clerk at the Marriott will forget my name that she knows so well now.

… I'll see a healthy, full-term baby and not feel jealous.

… I won't center my evening around calling the NICU nurse to get a nightly update on my baby.

….we won't measure weight gain in grams.

…I'll watch the nightly news and actually process what they are saying.

…I'll find the strength to pack away my maternity clothes, including the ones I never got to wear.

Then one day we'll pack a bag and tighten the seatbelt around an empty carseat before driving north.

…we'll practically skip into the hospital as we prepare to bring our baby home.

…we'll shed some tears as we hug the nurses and doctors that have become like family and have cared so dearly for our Ethan.

….we'll walk into our home with the other pea in the pod that will make our family complete.

And then all of those "one days" will turn into weeks, months, and years….

And one day the baby that seemed so tiny and fragile will get the sweetest little fat rolls that will turn into healthy skin of a little boy, and eventually into the muscle of a man.

…his tender fingers that curl so snuggly around mine will grow large, rough, and strong.

…his tiny cries will change to babble, then words, and the voice of a gentleman.

…I'll let go of his hand as he walks into school the first day and will blink twice to see him cross the stage for graduation.

One day his heart that we will so carefully and prayerfully help shape as he grows will become his own.  He'll make his own decisions, fall in and out of love, and hopefully choose the right paths in life.

….he'll need us, love us, befriend us, think we're dumb, get mad at us, and come back around to love and need us again.

…he'll have babies of his own and will realize what an amazing miracle they are, no matter how big or small.

Though those "one days" seem to drag on right now, they'll snowball.  And before our very eyes, our babies grow into children, and those children into adults.  We can't slow the calendar, but we can sure enjoy those moments, precious seconds that create those "one days," and trap them in our memory forever.

Even as fast as the sands of time slip through our fingers, we still get to take them one day at a time.

The internal battle of motherly instinct

Some people call it motherly instinct, for others it's learned habits from generations before, but not matter what you call it, most females have an innate ability and desire to nurture their children.

For mothers with NICU babies, that instinct is squelched.  Sure, the NICU facility goes to great lengths to help parents feel like they are helping with their children, and there are some times that our presence there is helpful.  But the challenge facing every NICU mother is allowing the medical staff to do what they think is right for your baby while you feel an inner desire to help him yourself.

Today I'm feeling that challenge.  Ethan had a setback today.  It was nothing major and we continue to count our blessings, especially as our eyes have become more open to the world of preemie babies and the challenges that many face.  But still…he's our baby, so even minor setbacks are painful.

Ethan's little body decided today that it was tired of digesting…a job that he shouldn't have had to do at this point anyway.  Because of his digestive issues, he had a few breathing issues too.  So after increasing his settings on his CPAP machine, two x-rays, and a new IV, he seems to be doing fine.  All tests were clear and they are giving his digestive track some time to rest tonight by just giving him nutrients through the IV.

But the hardest bit of news for me today was that he cried.  He didn't cry because he was getting his diaper changed, or they had to do a blood draw, or he didn't like the position he was in.  He just cried.  

How can I not feel like he was crying for his mama?  How do I squelch the desire to reach in his warm isolette, pull off all the tubes, wrap him in a blanket, and gently rock him to sleep?  Even though I've been told that preemies with tummy problems need to be left alone, why do the words of older, wiser women in my life ring in my ears and make me want to massage his little tummy?  How do I keep my van from heading north tonight, even though I know that there is nothing I can do by being there?  

Don't get me wrong…we have complete confidence in the staff overseeing his care and know that he continues on the road to good health.  But tonight I have this overwhelming desire to yell out the window to anybody that will listen, "Mama knows best!"  Call it intuition, instinct, or a learned skill, but tonight it is tearing me apart because it's the first day that my baby cried for me.  

Her purpose was to offer a hug

The day we left Ethan in the NICU for the first time we were inconsolable.  The front desk nurse needed to take my picture for security reasons and it took me 45 minutes just to be able to calm down enough for the photo.  I watched as parent after parent would check in at the desk, discuss friendly topics with the desk nurse, talk on their cell phones, and move in and out of the NICU without the up and down swells of emotion we were feeling.  That calm peace that those parents exhibited was so far from our reality at that moment.

But this week we seem to have turned a corner.  Oh, trust me I still tear up and fall apart at random moments.  But as I left the NICU the other day, I held my head high, said a prayer, and walked out tear-free.  

It was a sweet personal victory.  I felt like I could start counting myself as one of those parents I saw on that first day.  

As the emotions begin to even out and the hormones start to get a bit more level, it is becoming apparent to us that there is a bigger purpose to this bump in the road of life.  We aren't sure what it is right now, but we're eagerly looking to the future to figure it out.  

For sure, I'll continue to enter that NICU each time, check in, and at the same point in the hallway, I get a lump in my throat.  By the time I see room 242 with a sign on the door we made that says "Ethan's Room.  Sweet little baby boy…," the tears flow freely.  Every time I reach in his little plastic crib and he wraps his tiny fingers around mine, my heart breaks over and over.

But I'm aiming to be the calm and focused parent, just as the lady we met on the elevator when we left that first day.  She asked about our baby and said she had a baby in the NICU.  She remembered the first days when she too cried all the time.  But she promised that better days were ahead and offered a hug to send us on our way.

What a blessing she was that day, and I continue to hang on to her words and feel her embrace.  She doesn't realize that was her purpose that day.  I just hope we are able to offer that same comforting embrace in our bigger purpose.