I don’t want to be here.
You know you’re at the hospital way too much when the clerk at the cafeteria register tells you to “Have a nice shift!”...
I don’t want to be here.
Like Berto said, yesterday was, in some ways, even harder than the first week. It was not a good day. I’m sitting in the cafeteria stalling... I want to see the girls, but I’m working on getting into a headspace where I can handle hearing maybe not wonderful news. I don’t want to be here, but here I am. In light of that, it’s important to recognize some of my favorite things about being here... it can’t all be bad!
The weekend pizza. I love “good” pizza. I love “bad” pizza. Somewhere in the confusing in-between space is weekend hospital pizza... I highly recommend it. Unfortunately, it’s Monday.
Watching new parents, usually dads, carry the telltale hospital bags up to the labor and delivery or recovery floors. They all have the same look, the same stuff... it’s adorable. I never packed a bag. Not sure what I would have put in it, but I can guarantee it wouldn’t have been what I actually needed.
The NICU nurses. How they are always so calm, I don’t know. They even walk calmly. Watching them “work” (read: continually save my childrens’ lives, day after day) is humbling and I am so thankful.
My (our) babies. I don’t know if it will ever not be a little jarring to write that... the fact that they’re MY babies is wild... the fact that they are THEY, babieS plural(!), is even stranger (a good strange!) When does the novelty wear off? Do you ever stop crying when you look at them? I hope so. I won’t get much done in life if not...
So it’s a short list, but it’s a start. Time to go upstairs.
