Finally. It is so much quieter. And finally, on her fourth day of being in this world, we can hold our baby girl.
Where there used to be five different machines with screens constantly blinking and sounds beeping, fighting for a spot with us to be near our girl, there is only one. We have space.
Where there used to be wires all over her, in squiggles on top of her head, across her face, forehead, in her mouth and nose, and an IV line stuck in her belly button, now, there’s just a feeding tube and several probes stuck on her little body. We have our little girl’s sweet face.
We haven’t handled the past few days very well at times. It’s still hard. But, we did our best. And we have grace.
It’s odd that given everything that’s happened the last few days, tonight, I’m not anxious. At least not right now. I think the world of difference is being able to hold her and feel her and smell that amazing baby smell.
And there goes the curtain and new nurses step in, and I should probably go. That song is stuck in my head: “You are good. You are good.” And He is, no matter the outcome.
I know this because today I get to hold my baby girl, and today, that’s enough for me.
