Today my girl is officially a newborn. Today was originally her day. But as we now know, my girl had different plans.
So instead, for the last eleven and a half weeks, we have watched her do her growing here in the outside. Those of us who have had to do this understand that it's a journey of what some might term a hot mess. Watching your baby grow on the outside is profoundly life-changing. It's miraculous and heart-wrenching and incredible and terrifying and inspiring and debilitating. It's a hot mess, people. A hot mess that leaves you forever changed. Tonight Noah asked me if I was going back to the hospital. Nico still randomly talks about the day the ambulance came. Walking into the hospital yesterday for a support group, I am pretty sure I had a panic attack. Sometimes my mind wanders to the NICU still. To the nurses and doctors who saved her life, and in turn, saved mine too. To all the moms and dads and babies who didn't make it to their due dates. Hot. Sticky. Mess.
And yet at the center of all this mess is a gratitude of epic proportions. Gratitude to have her home. Gratitude that she is healthy. That her brothers are healthy. Gratitude that I get to put all three of my babies to bed and not have to leave them anymore. Gratitude that we have a Grandma and an Oma and an Opa who always show up. Gratitude to have friends and family who keep us on our feet. Gratitude to have each other, home, and under the same roof. Gratitude that we had so many prayers said for our sweet baby girl and gratitude that our prayers were answered.
The last four months have been a blur - 48 days of bed rest, followed by 53 days in the NICU, and now the last 31 at home. God, I love home. It's insanity here, make no doubt about it, but it's home. A home where Nico can't get enough of her, where Noah wants to feed her cereal bars, and where Trevor and I once again feel like we have no idea what we're doing. It's awesome. Seriously awesome.
And just as it should be.