Mom's issues

So, poor mom and dad barely got a chance to even see what I looked like.....

And what I looked like was a miniature baby doll, a little under 3 1/4 pounds. By no means the smallest baby to survive but net yet "fully baked" as they say.

The Newborn team got me "stable" and wisked me off to the Newborn Intensive Care Unit before mom even really saw me. Dad could at least walk around and got a few quick glimpses of me while the "team" worked their magic but poor mom ...

And as fast as I had arrived, I was gone, taken to the NBSCU.

Mom had problems too but that was barely noticed. She had abrupted and to make matters worse, I had a short cord that tore when I arrived. Mom, covered in bloody amniotic fluid, could only lie there and watch, and hope that I would be ok. At mom's request, the hospital priest had been called to bless me but the priest she had spoken to earlier was on vacation so Father how-dare-you-wake-me-at-3-am came instead. And finally, mom was taken care of while dad and Father how-dare-you-wake-me-at-3-am walked to NBSCU to bless me.

So, mom's needs were set aside for me....the first of more times than I can count.

As I think of that night and remember my time in the NBSCU, I realize I can't help but draw parallells....how similar the extremes of my life.

I started life with almost 2 months in NBSCU not knowing from day to day if I would survive ... and I ended my life after 2 months in PICU not knowing from day to day if I would survive.