Josiah

I am feeling very weepy today. Our baby, my baby, is staying in the hospital while we are going home.

My heart just hurts. I want to be there for all his newborn-ness. I’ve only held him for a couple of hours total, if that. Yesterday he went through all his tricks for me while I was holding him. Yawning, burping, sneezing, pooping, raising his eyebrows to have a wrinkly old man forehead, looking from side to side like he is the villain in a Charlie Chaplin movie.

My favorite trick was when he was hiccuping. It was exactly the same pattern as when he was inside of me. And I looked down at his sweet, perfectly round face and I recognized that he was mine. 

He is my baby. Not Brooke’s, Katelyn’s, Kristen’s, Mary’s or Dr. Jenkins’. Mine. And I want to be the one to take care of him. But for his health and safety, I cannot. I’m not a respiratory therapist, I can’t clear the infection from his lungs, I can’t push 6 liters per minute of oxygen into his body to encourage his heart to relax. 

Oh how I wish I could! I would take him home with me and never let him out of my sight. I may turn into an attachment-parenting advocate, not for him, but for me.

They say that babies are born with certain reflexes. I’ve watched how Josiah wants to use them. They’re real. I’d add that mothers are born with certain reflexes too. And my heart is aching to hold him close, kiss his soft head and whisper ‘I love you’ and ‘welcome to our family’ over and over again. 

The other facet is even more beautiful to me. I have a hard time sharing that my baby is in the NICU because everyone always responds with shock and a sort of commiseration. It is almost as if others expect me to be miserable and they want to support/participate in my misery. Although well intended, it is not what I need. I am not miserable. I am not feeling guilty. I am not drowning in darkness. 

My soul is overflowing with peace. When the waves of sorrow wash over me, I can look up and see His love. It is powerful. I can see His fingerprints. They are abundant. Tender mercies have poured out. God knows me. He knows McCallin. He knows Josiah.

He loves all of us. And we are in His hands. 

Where else would I want to be?