I had a conversation the other day with my music/worship leader and mentor. We talked about how far I’ve come since he met me and since we started meeting. He said I was timid and unsure of myself when we first met. I was very much inside my head.  I’ve come so far. The person that sat depressed yet joyful in the NICU with her newborn is not the same person today. Living day to day, you don’t realize the change as much. But looking back over months and even years now, I know I’ve changed. How could you not change? When your life is altered and shaken at its core, you are shaken with it. The foundation of who you are is shattered. But I’m seeing now that all the shattered pieces of who I was has miraculously come together again, with some new pieces, and has re-formed a new, fierce, beautiful person that I’m now starting to recognize in the mirror. (Because there were days when I didn’t recognize myself at all).

I realize now that having to pump breast milk for Adalene was my saving grace. It kept my mind and body on a schedule with something intentional to do when I felt so helpless. Every day in the NICU was the same. I’d get up and try to breast feed and then pump while Ryan or my mom or a nurse would tube feed Adalene. I clearly remember the details of our schedule day to day, but the days themselves are a blur. Every 12 hours we had a new nurse and I remember thinking how weird it was to be updating another woman on how to take care of my baby. These women had their own lives outside of the four walls surrounding us, but my whole life was summed up within those same four walls. It felt unnatural to have someone else that I didn’t know taking care of Adalene. I know they were trained for that and it was their job, but it still felt weird to me. I had to remind myself that life outside of the NICU still went on. My whole world had come to a scary and abrupt halt so I just figured everyone else’s had too. But that’s not how the world works and trauma is no respecter of persons.

Half way through our stay, Adalene got moved to her own semi-private corner in the NICU. It was a good sign and it was one step further to being able to leave. It gave me more privacy to breast feed and pump too. Adalene’s oxygen levels and jaundice were our main concern by that point. The holes in her heart didn’t seem to be of much concern to the doctor so we just let it be and focused on the things that were keeping her in the hospital. She wasn’t gaining much weight either. I know it’s natural and normal for a baby to lose weight initially right after their born. Adalene had done that and then plateaued and just wasn’t gaining. This concerned the doctors because a heart condition can cause the body to over work and therefore, not gain weight. Every day we held our breath when the nurse would weigh her in the morning. Some mornings she has lost weight and other mornings she would stay about the same. So we continued to pray and do what we knew to do to help her gain weight. I would day dream about the day when the doctor would come in and say that we could take Adalene home. My heart ached for that. I couldn’t wait to take her home and show her our own place where there were no doctors or nurses or tubes or beeping machines. I wanted to have my own routine with her at home that didn’t depend on a hospital’s schedule or get interrupted by well intentioned people. I knew it would happen though. That’s what gave me hope- knowing that we wouldn’t be there forever and someday (hopefully sooner than later) we would be taking our little girl home.