1 week ago
Sunday, May 11, 2014
Yesterday, Joshua came home. Jerry led the way in the door with the oxygen tank. I slowly followed
with Joshua. I knelt down, pulled Joshua out of his car seat, moved him to his bassinet and I cried. I'm not saying that I got a little misty eyed. I cried big fat tears. From then on I cried all day. I fed Joshua, and I cried. I bathed him, and I cried. I ate chocolate-covered acai berries, and I cried. I scrolled down Facebook, and I cried. There were a lot of tears. There still are actually.
I felt the tears coming on all morning. Because Joshua came home with an oxygen tank we spent Friday night at the hospital and spent the morning milling around waiting to be discharged. Tears came and went a little, but I was easily distracted by the nurse, nurse practitioner, and dietician who were all trying to make sure we had everything we needed.
And after what felt like an eternity, but was really 10 1/2 weeks, we put our little boy in the car and drove him home.
Why did I cry? I felt elated, and terrified, and happy, and tired, and nervous, and excited, and hopeful all at the same time. How could my heart contain itself?
The Michelle that was wheeled into the operating room on February 26 is a different Michelle than the one that carried her son out of the NICU on May 10. I don't feel superior to anything or anyone from before; I feel so changed.
I'm a mom now - a full-fledged, full-time, not just-during-feedings-at-the-hospital kind of mom now. My life-long dream has come true, and I'm sitting here just sobbing from joy.