The Highs and the Lows

Today was the hardest postpartum day so far. Not only are my hormones out of whack, but it set in more today than it has since Saturday that Jackson isn't home. And the news that his bilirubin levels shot up from 9.8 to 12.1 overnight means that he won't be coming home tomorrow. My heart breaks when I look over from my bed and see his empty crib. The sheets and blankets are freshly washed, a package of diapers and wipes awaits, but there is no baby to fill the empty space. I cried in the shower when I thought about how in the span of 24 hours I only get to hold him for 3-4 of those hours. I have no control over the noise level and the bright lights of the nursery he's in and I can't pick him up to comfort him when he cries in the middle of the night. I lost it in the car driving to see him, cried as we walked through the doors into the hospital, and shaded my red, swollen eyes as we drove home this afternoon.

This evening, we struggled through a feeding. Although his color looks much better, we aren't allowed to bring him home until everything checks out perfect. His breathing sometimes speeds up to levels that NICU would prefer not to see, but I swear it's due to the stress of the other crying babies and the constant beeping of machines in the room he's now in. Tears flooded my eyes as we drove home again with no little one in the back seat. And just now, as I thought I was calming down, I smelled him on my shirt and lost it again. I'm not as strong as many think I am. If anything, it's the exact opposite - I feel like I've failed my son. I can't help but get mad at myself for not being more adamant about getting Jimmy up when I woke up at 4:15 a.m. in obvious labor. Had I done so, I would have labored down longer, meaning Jackson wouldn't have needed NICU. The nurses also told me had I been admitted Friday night when I initially came in, Jackson most likely wouldn't have ended up with fluid in his lungs. My heart aches when I think back to how I should have fought harder to get admitted.

So, needless to say, it's been a really hard day. My faith, however, has not faltered. We prayed over Jackson again tonight and my heart lifted as God filled me with peace. I know he will soon be home and when he is, I promise to love on that little boy every minute of every day.

Despite how difficult today was, there were lots of highs. I have my smiley little 1-year-old to thank for that. Not that my husband isn't loving and comforting, but if little Jimmy wasn't in our lives, we would have moved in at the hospital and stayed every waking minute in NICU with Jackson. That nurse who said we made a poor decision to have two kids so close has no idea how wrong her opinion is because my son is keeping me from laying in bed crying all day. He clings to my legs and gives me lots of hugs and kisses during the day. Today, he signed "more" and also has been talking up a storm. He took Jimmy's cell phone and put it up to his ear and pretended to have a conversation when we told him to call baby Jackson. He is also loving this beautiful weather and was aglow when we took him on a walk in his red wagon. I love his smile and his zeal for life, and I cannot wait to let him shower Jackson with the same love he has showered on Jimmy and me. God gave him a spirit of love and kindness and it has pulled us through these last trying weeks. I will forever be indebted to him for his unfailing love during the most hectic month of his life.

God is good - ALL THE TIME.