Portland
Saturday afternoon brought a cold, heavy rain that chased everyone inside. Water poured from the sides of the gutters and ran down Commercial street in a torrent that looked wide enough and deep enough for a white-water adventure. Carter took the gray day in stride - he loves experimenting with the Nintendo games. Katie snuggled down on the couch with JoAnn and watched the Wizard of Oz for a while, but dinner served up right when Dorothy melted the wicked witch of the west. We ate barbecue ribs and potatoes and cheesecake.
JoAnn paid the price for sitting up all Thursday night with Nan. She came down with something and spent the whole day yesterday (Saturday) in bed, mostly sleeping. She looked forward to taking the kids to Saturday Market, and to the park to play, and to read books and maybe watch a movie. Just to be a regular family again. She couldn't even get up to see Nanette - a combination of too tired and too sick. You have to be symptom free to get into the NICU. Unless you're a newborn on the brink of life.
Josie sat vigil with Nanette yesterday. I sat down on the other bed in our room and dozed off while JoAnn slept. Gordon watched the kids.
It sounds like an ordinary day when I write about it, but there's nothing ordinary here. We want our girls to come home. (Although I might have to buy a Nintendo in order to lure Carter back to Walla Walla.)
Nanette's vital signs and blood gases are "trending in the right direction." That means she's doing fine. (Comparatively speaking.) This latest surgery will keep our little girl here through Mother's Day at least. Maybe longer. There's always the chance of more complications. And Dr. Jay wants to see her monthly for the rest of the year, and then semi-annually and then annually after that.
I feel as if I have to end this post with something dramatic and pointed and wise, but I'm tired. I'm tired of being here. Tired of not being able to hold my baby. Tired of watching the clock from 7 to 8. Tired of the green band around my wrist. Tired of waiting, tired of worrying, tired of being torn between two towns so far apart. I'm tired of not sleeping well at night.
I know I'm whining. I know I'm blessed and I'm grateful. Grateful for JoAnn and Nanette and Katie and Carter and the grammas and grampas and aunts and uncles that love us and help us. Grateful for the hospitals and the doctors and the nurses and the Ronald McDonald House. Grateful for the e-mails and especially for the prayers that so vividly give Nanette strength and courage.
But I'm tired too. No shame in that. We're all tired. Tired and grateful.
JoAnn paid the price for sitting up all Thursday night with Nan. She came down with something and spent the whole day yesterday (Saturday) in bed, mostly sleeping. She looked forward to taking the kids to Saturday Market, and to the park to play, and to read books and maybe watch a movie. Just to be a regular family again. She couldn't even get up to see Nanette - a combination of too tired and too sick. You have to be symptom free to get into the NICU. Unless you're a newborn on the brink of life.
Josie sat vigil with Nanette yesterday. I sat down on the other bed in our room and dozed off while JoAnn slept. Gordon watched the kids.
It sounds like an ordinary day when I write about it, but there's nothing ordinary here. We want our girls to come home. (Although I might have to buy a Nintendo in order to lure Carter back to Walla Walla.)
Nanette's vital signs and blood gases are "trending in the right direction." That means she's doing fine. (Comparatively speaking.) This latest surgery will keep our little girl here through Mother's Day at least. Maybe longer. There's always the chance of more complications. And Dr. Jay wants to see her monthly for the rest of the year, and then semi-annually and then annually after that.
I feel as if I have to end this post with something dramatic and pointed and wise, but I'm tired. I'm tired of being here. Tired of not being able to hold my baby. Tired of watching the clock from 7 to 8. Tired of the green band around my wrist. Tired of waiting, tired of worrying, tired of being torn between two towns so far apart. I'm tired of not sleeping well at night.
I know I'm whining. I know I'm blessed and I'm grateful. Grateful for JoAnn and Nanette and Katie and Carter and the grammas and grampas and aunts and uncles that love us and help us. Grateful for the hospitals and the doctors and the nurses and the Ronald McDonald House. Grateful for the e-mails and especially for the prayers that so vividly give Nanette strength and courage.
But I'm tired too. No shame in that. We're all tired. Tired and grateful.
posted by Joe Cooke @ 4/29/2006 02:41:00 PM
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