Week old yesterday. Still in the NICU, but smiling because I got my feeding tube out. Small victories are still victories. Thankful for everyone’s support 🫶
And yes, my DNA dug DEEP to produce that little blonde peach fuzz on our lil Georgia 🍑
Victory is sweet, even deep in the cheap seats. 🩸💧but it’s still super stressful. Ezra still in ICU. So weird not to bring your baby home. I can’t sleep at night. Tried everything to knock me out. I can’t even pray. I’m not mad at God or anything. Just weary in my soul. The hospital is an hour away. Hour there, few hours with him, hour back. Sleep. Repeat.
My in-laws are here to help, which is a huge blessing, but it’s also made the kids even more amped up. They don’t really understand what’s going on, but they can feel the stress. I’m trying not to be short with everyone, but also trying not to just become a recluse.
I have knee surgery Tuesday. I’m praying he’s out of the hospital by then, but it’s on his timing, and I’ll accept whatever happens. It would just be more convenient. But I never get convenient, and that’s OK.
I was considering calling off the surgery, but he continues to make progress, little by little, and I don’t really have another window away from work to make it happen. So the time is now while we have my mother-in-law and sister-in-law here to help.
I prayed so much those first few days, and now I’m just holding on. I’m not in a crisis of faith. I’m just tired in a place sleep doesn’t seem to reach.
I still have faith and hope and joy. I still know where my hope is. I just don’t have the energy to feel much of anything right now.
Just numb. Still holding on.