18 days

It's been 18 days. So close to leaving for home, I fear I will jinx myself if I stop to look around. Even the most faith filled person can get a little"stuporsticious" around here. Crossing my fingers at blood sugar checks. They were 81 tonight. Anything over 45 is good. Higer than 60 is awesome. Next check around 3am. Then again around 9am. Hopefully I will have pinned down Dr. K by the 3pm check time...and gotten discharge orders. I hope I am not jinxing myself by even discussing it. But I also want to take the power out of that superstitious thinking by putting it out there for others to see. Be quiet brain. Let the Man above do his work and the lil one below show his amazingness to the world. Stand aside and let the masters work.

I dare to look around me. The soft hum of the air conditioning makes this room seem even more freezing than it is. It's a small family waiting room, and I believe it is where the stench of this hospital originates from. Earlier today I came in here and there were 4 children, alone, jumping on the couches, sweaty and screaming like it was McDonalds. I was a little irritated as I glared at the "do not leave your children unattended" sign clearly posted on the door, in Spanish and English. No excuses. I slumped down on the stinky armchair anyway. The trash is overflowing with vending machine wrappers-the sustenance of life around here-quarters for food. Thank God for a husband who has faithfully pulled wonders from our kitchen cupboards and forced me to take them with me. Sometimes an ice chest magically has appeared on the seat next to me in the van. He's a good man.

It's funny as I type this, to my left about 10 feet over are a man and a teenager. They are playing a video game hooked up to a small TV. They are laughing and giggling. It's 930 on a Sunday night. They are sitting in a NICU hospital waiting room, having fun. A woman walks in and the noise stops. The smiles fade immediately, the sound of the cheery characters on the TV is silent. Hushed words are whispered in Spanish, tears fall and they rush from the room. I keep clicking at my keys. This world never existed 18 days ago. It was a scary place, avoided at all costs, in a huge building far away. This place was where other people went. Not me. I always said when I went to this place, it would be for work. Not like this.

And now standing on the brink of escape I stop to look back. I have to feel this. While it's raw. Here lies comrades in battle. Here lies many tears. Here in this place prayers rise from the rafters on a minute by minute base. Many are calloused-cold-unaffected. Many are raw, torn and broken. There are unspoken rules followed family to family. It doesn't matter what you look like, how many painkillers you've had, what color your skin is or if you are wet with tears. Here we are equals. Here, above all, you will find hope. It reminds me of scripture that I have heard a thousand times but finally sinks in; Faith, Hope and Love. It is here. And the greatest of all truly is Love. Love not only of these tiny babies, but love for another being of the human race. I don't think I can tell you the name of one parent here other than my long time friend mentioned before. I really can't. Yet I know them. I know where they live, all about their children. I know one lady who just had twins and who's husband decided he didn't want a family after all. I know the stories of so many. The mom in the corner, adopting her child. It is really her niece. The sister who actually gave birth 7 weeks early in jail was addicted to meth. The baby now four months old still suffers. But every day her mama comes and holds her and rocks her and sings to her. I have shared hugs with so many strangers, male and female, crying and rejoicing, coming and going. We all pass it on.

In the midst of my pain days ago I was stopped in my tracks by a laughing couple with two empty car seats, one red, one blue. They were going home with their twins. It had been months. I could only dream what I now can almost taste. I imagine myself tomorrow, being the one carrying the carseat. It will pain some of the parents here-bittersweet to see me go-yet you can't help but be happy that another one escapes this place. This place of life saving, hostage holding. It's so much more than I can explain, the politics of it all. It's a lesson you only learn hands on. It's eye opening effect can only be experienced first person. What begins as a heroic effort lingers on with paranoia and legalities-lawsuit preventions. There is so much here that I want to change, that I know would make such a difference. But I am one person. I continue to consider what exactly God has been showing me. What doors have been opened along with my eyes? What is it He would have me see? What path am I supposed to walk once I leave those heavy double doors? Change often begins as a small ripple. Potential is a very strong asset. I continue to consider.

For now I see the clock. Someone needs me. My heartstrings are being pulled.
I will watch the sugars....I will keep you posted...I continue to believe and hope with all my heart that tomorrow I will be the parent with the car seat. A simple item pondered, scrutinized and purchased by every parent to be, holding so much more meaning now than I ever would have suspected as I searched for the right colors, and matching patterns. Had I known it would hold this significance...it would have been the colors of the American flag for freedom...and lined with gold thread! But, an olive green pooh bear print will be the symbol of freedom for us. I can only imagine what it will be like to put my baby in that seat, go down that elevator and walk out the doors, ducking under the scrutinizing eyes of the lurking trolls. My heart forever changed. My baby ...safe...and mine...going home....back to the start of it all.