Staying in Perspective

It was a cloudless night. Crisp but warmer than our usual Decembers. The path from the parking lot to the hospital’s entrance was lined with small evergreen trees trimmed with tiny twinkle lights. Just as I stepped out of the car I could hear church bells pealing, “Oh Holy Night”. A combination that took my mind off my aching baby and her tiny daughter. A reminder that I have so very much to be grateful for. My girls are alive and this scary time will pass.

Baby Preslie will not eat. She has no interest in all the work of sucking on much of anything. As a result she’s now jaundiced. Nobody is yet sure whether her intestines are working properly and since she won’t eat they’ve decided to feed her with a tube until she will. There are so many wires and tubes connected to that tiny body it breaks my heart to look at her. I feel like there are things they aren’t telling us. Why would she need a heart monitor? If she’s on a feeding tube, why does she need an IV? Talking to nurses is like talking to a career politician sometimes, they say a lot of words that add up to zero content.