Lately...

Lately I turned 36. I celebrated with a pedicure. And I got my hair styled and some makeup put on my money maker. My money maker hasn't had makeup on in three months. Three months. I kind of liked it.

 

Lately life is a blur. A blur of this routine we seem to have built for ourselves. A routine founded in survival. A routine in which every hour of every day is accounted for. And surviving we are.

 

Some might even say thriving. Because lately, Sister is so big she can actually wear her hospital bracelets. Before this, she wore a sticker on her back identifying her as Girl Sara Smith. It's like with bracelets now, she can hold her own. Lately, this makes my heart soar.

 

 

As does this. Lately it's been hit or miss with the feedings. But as of today, she has completed three whole feedings in a row. We're trying not to get too excited. Because lately there has been talk of going home soon if she can get this feeding thing down. Be still my heart. Be still.

 



 

Lately there has been lots of staring. Staring at my beautiful baby girl who has continued to grow and fight and completely have us mesmerized by what a gift life is. What a gift she is. What a gift her brothers are. What a gift her nurses and doctors have been. They have become my friends as I sit with my girl, day in and day out. Friends who love her and know her and root for her. How do you ever say thank you for that?

 



 

And lately - as in like this morning - this happened:

 

After 49 days, my boys got to see my girl with their very own eyes. It was a quick hello - just looking, no touching - and they have not been able to stop talking about it since. Nico just asked, "Mama, is Gabby coming home soon?" Oh, I pray. I pray every day.

 

Lately, it has become abundantly clear that blessings lie hidden in all struggles. Blessings of growth, of new friends, of firsts that will forever be imprinted in your heart.

 

Forever.

The Truth

 

Today my sweet little Miss is one-month-old.

And the truth is, I think I am finally starting to feel like I can breathe.

 

The truth is, I have been a wreck. A train wreck. An enormously huge holy-shit-that train-completely-derailed-itself wreck. And I haven't been able to breathe. Like the really alive kind of breathing. 

 

You see, the NICU is not for the faint of heart. My girl has done amazingly well. But there have still been hard talks. Talks between doctors and nurses and mom standing off to the side. Talks about heart rates too high, oxygen levels too low, too many apnea episodes during a shift, temperatures too low, skin color just off. Really hard talks. And monitors. Monitors that stare at you and blink at you and beep at you. All. Day. Long.

 

So you stop breathing.

 

And you hold in your terror.

 

Because you're afraid if you let it out, you might just never recover.

 

Then the talks change. The talks change to good weight gain, less apnea episodes, and signs of wanting to eat. So you take a moment to reflect on where she's been in order to embrace where she's going, and what you realize is this:

 

She started here...

 

 

And we are currently here...

 

 

And this all happened in between...

 

 

A little reflection is always important, I suppose. Because we have come a long way in just one month. A really long way. We now have a 3 pound, 8 ounce, wanting-to-eat and loving-to-stare-into-your-eyes baby girl. She is perfection. Perfection that is growing and making strides and doing ridiculously well.

 

I thought there for a while I was never going to breathe again. I can be a bit dramatic. The NICU doesn't help that.

 

Leaving babies doesn't help that either. Because no matter which way I going, the truth is, I am leaving behind a baby.

 

Or two.

 

 

And it devastates me. It breaks my heart. Hospital isn't home. Home isn't home. It is so hard there aren't even words. And yet, at the same time, I know how very lucky I am to have babies to go to. So that is where I try to live. In that space.

 

And I think, at the end of this day, breathing is finally coming back to me - and it began with a bath and a onesie. Yes, a bath and a onesie. Not for me. For her. 

 

You might not know this, but a bath and a onesie can do a mama some good. Two nights ago, the Miss got her very first bath. And there was something so healing about that moment for me. So healing, I felt like maybe I could breathe again.

 

 

A baby in a bath. My baby in a bath. It was like real life. A glimpse into what real life might look like and feel like. I breathed for the first time in 29 days that day. And I have breathed since then, too, although there are still moments when I am afraid to.

 

But I am working on it.

 

For me.

 

For the boys.

 

For her.

 

All in the hopes that someday soon, our picture will be complete.

 

Me. Him. Them. Her.

 

Soon. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2013 Photo Dump

And that's a wrap, 2013.