The doctor told me today that my girl is coming home in ONE WEEK!
But there is this very real part of my subconscious that is raining on my baby's homecoming parade ... what if it doesn't happen? Her healing has certainly not gone according to plan, so why get excited about a date if it might just get changed. I allowed this train of thought for a while ... indulged my pessimism by calling it "realistic."
Well, screw that. At the end of the day, I would much rather hang my hat on hope. I am not talking about a flighty, faithless kind of hope, but the bold and virtuous breed. I put my hope in God and in his Word, and I know that He has a wild, intricate and boundless love for my girl. And that doesn't change, no matter how long she is in the NICU.
So I am allowing myself to champion hope ... and to let the goofy grin spread across my face.
In the next week, here is what needs to happen:
- She has to pass her hearing test and her carseat test (she has to sit in her carseat for an hour without any apnea), and she will have another eye exam
- Josh and I will meet with the home oxygen people, and get trained on how to make sure sister is getting her good air
- We will need to learn how to give her medicines and vitamins
- We will room-in (probably Monday night) as a trial run at being real, full-time parents. That way we can survive our first night with the security blanket of nearby NICU nurses.
Get pumped, people. God is good, our girl is cute, and we are thrilled.