Life in the hospital is strange. Completely disconnected from the outside world. We left yesterday to grab something from home and get some food and there is a whole world out there that seems peaceful and unaware of our plight! How inconsiderate!
We sometimes find ourselves getting greedy and asking 5 million times, "When can we go home?" "How much does she need to eat to be able to go home?" "Our blankets are dirty, can we get some fresh ones?" And just when we start to feel indignant that our kid is not on the top of everyone's list, they wheel another kid in followed by another worried family. Your heart just breaks for the babies that need surgery to survive or are still touch and go. We feel unbelievably lucky and have been sent here to be humbled. It forces us to absolutely recognize the gift we have been given for what it really is, a miracle.
It makes me sad to think that the universe believed that we needed this lesson in order to treat this blessing with the respect it deserves, but who are we to know? No matter how painful, annoying, and exhausting this process can be for us, we have the easiest road of all the families in the NICU. I say this not to diminish our experience, but to enhance it. To stay conscious of the truth: we'll forget all about this soon and we'd be lucky to retain even an ounce of the appreciation we have right now for little Rigley's life.
Brief update: Things continue to improve every day as a whole. People here all talk about the "two steps forward, one step back." We have had our steps in both directions. Feeding is hopefully going just good enough for us to leave. As tough as breast feeding is anyway, success of feeding is what will send us home. No pressure there, thanks. She'll get it eventually and we have lots of support. We just need to keep our spirits (and energy) up. We use a lot of humor and Jen has begun referring to one of the nurses as "The Vampire" because she is always having to stick Rigley's foot to draw blood.