Heart Hurt

I have a friend who descibed "heart hurt" in one of her blog posts. This is what I felt tonight. You always know when you're building up to a good cry. You're teary at little things. Your eyes always feel a little watery, your nose stings at simple things, you swallow away the tears as best you can.

But sometimes the flood gates open. Like they did tonight for me. I cried out my heart hurt to my mom - because she was there with me. Then I cried out my heart hurt to Roger on my way home. Then I cried during dinner. Just because.

Sometimes you just need to have a good cry and let the world know you're hurting, upset, sad, heartbroken...whatever you may be feeling.

It's amazing that this little girl can cause so much emotional pain for me. I don't say that in negative way, but sometimes I feel I can't take much more of this trial. Physical pain is awful. But emotional pain breaks you. It's a constant ache that flares at any given time.

No one ever can describe what it feels like to love a child until you become a parent. Doesn't matter how you are defined as a parent, you know exactly what I mean when I say this.

They say a Mother's hug can make the hurt go away. I'm grateful for my mom today, who hugged me as I cried - walking down the hall - away from the NICU - away from a situation I couldn't handle anymore. I'm grateful for her mom, my grandma, who slept in the waiting room for two hours today while I tried to console my daughter. Oh how I wish, I wish so badly, so so so much more than words can ever express, that I could have hugged my baby today.

Brooklyn is fine. Progressing ever so slowly, testing my patience and faith. But she was upset today - more than I've ever seen before. She cried off and on for 30 minutes. And I couldn't fix her. The nurse in me tried every trick I knew to calm a preemie stuck in an incubator. The mom in me desperately tried every trick we've learned along the way to console our daughter. She finally gave up, exhausted, and fell asleep. And held her breath so badly that she went gray. And I crumbled. She was sleeping and sort of lethargic from her tantrum, so I left. I walked away. I couldn't take it anymore. I'd watched her cry (shaky bottom lip and all) for long enough. My chest ached, my heart ached - and I went home. To my sweet husband who let me cry it out. My saving grace again.

I needed and wanted to hug my baby girl more than I have ever wanted to before. I knew she would have calmed down had I just been able to hold her. But she is confined to her incubator and ventilator. For the first time I hated the modern miracle of medicine.

Three hours later I got up the courage to call up to the hospital to check on her. Turns out all she needed was to poop. They had to change her diaper three times there was so much. So she had a tummy ache - haven't we all? But she couldn't tell me that. Couldn't even communicate through body language. She had to suffer through the hurt in that stuped isolette until she was able to go.

Tonight I feel more peaceful. I'm still teary, even as I write this. I'm grateful for my husband who lets me rant and rave when I feel the need. I'm grateful for a new day tomorrow - to see her again, maybe even hold her. It's been a week since I've held her...I think I'm ready. She may not need it, but I do.

Sweet baby Brooklyn, can you please try to get bigger faster? I'm not as strong as I'd like to be, my faith is being tested, my emotions can't take much more. We're ready to have you home.

Doesn't she look mischevious in this one? No wonder her nurses are always putting her in "timeout".

Four generations: Grandma Sharon, Mom, Me, Brooklyn

Working up to her tantrum today...

Binki still does wonders, even with the breathing tube in the way. Doesn't she look upset? One of her calmer moments during the tantrum.

Cute grandma, waiting for me to get a grip and leave so she could go home and take a real nap. Sorry Grandma.