I needed more time. Elisa needed more time.
Tonight I came across two songs. Both of which struck a chord as a preemie mom. One was actually about the artists preemie. Another, was simply lamenting how things didn't go as they wanted them to.
"I hoped that you could understand
That this is not what I had planned
Please don’t worry now
It will turn around
Cause I need more time
Just a few more months and we’ll be fine
So say what’s on your mind
Cause I can’t figure out just what’s inside"
As I was listening to it, I could see myself looking at her in that isolette, and telling her "I'm sorry." And her telling me "It will be ok."
And then there is this one. The one actually written about the artists preemie.
One line is the artists child talking to him:
"I see it in your eyes, I see it in your eyes, you'll be alright."
And it struck me. The entire 6 weeks we were in the NICU, it wasn't me telling Elisa it will be ok. We'll get through this. You'll see. Just wait. Just a little bit more. You'll be ok.
In fact...SHE told ME. Through the fleeting smiles she would give when she felt me walk into the room. Through the snuggling down on me during kangaroo care. For the sheer amount of love shining in her eyes when she looked at me. The way she would scoot to the side of the isolette that I was sitting on. It didn't matter what side she started on, within 30 minutes, she had scooted herself over to my side to be as close to me as possible.
Even after she choked. Turned blue. And I thought she was going to die. Even then, she told me she'd be alright. She fought back. She amazed the doctors with her tenacity. Her "go-getter-ness." She never thought she was a preemie and early. She thought she was just little, and she should be able to do everything any other baby should do at that age.
And as she's grown, she's continued to tell me. I may not always listen. I may still worry. But she keeps telling me.
I was supposed to be the one comforting her. Instead she comforted me. I was supposed to be her strength. Instead, she gave me strength.
See, ma? I'm ok. It's ok.
I continue to be impressed by her strength. I love you baby girl. And some day I hope to be strong enough to comfort you.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Saturday, April 9, 2011
This picture makes me a little sad. Why, you ask? Because in it, to me, she no longer looks like my little girl. She looks so "big" and "mature." In reality, she's not, but she just looks so grown up in this outfit from this angle.
It sort of reminds me of the lyrics of the song by Blink - Revive
"It happens in a blink, it happens in a flash, it happens in the time it takes to look back. I try to hold on tight but there's no stopping time."
It seems like just yesterday we were here:
"Slow down, slow down, before today becomes our yesterday."
For right now, for once in my life, I am content where I am. In this morning of my life. Long may that contentment continue. No longing for tomorrow. Or wishing for yesterday.
In this moment. Here. Now. I could just watch. (Yes, I know she's got a broom in her hand...she insisted. Guess it's her new "lovey?")
Friday, April 8, 2011
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Saturday, April 2, 2011
And for feeling better!
We are just now getting over our third ever illness. Yes. I know. Third. Which is nothing, really, for being 17 months old. We've truly been lucky that Elisa does not get sick often at all. Especially when you consider that we technically have a compromised immune system.
So when we woke up this morning and seemed to be more "ourself," and it was an absolutely gorgeous day, I thought, why spend it inside.
So outside we went. And we played. And played. And played. We even managed to scuff up our knee and earn ourselves a band aid. Which we promptly took off.
All this playing gave Elisa an appetite like I haven't seen in days. We were too impatient to even wait for me to break her piece of bread up. Either that, or we have decided we can "do it myself." Oh dear.
We've even learned a new "word" for lack of a better thing to call it. Whenever she sees or hears a car she goes "rmm, rmm!" I think she's trying for the "vrmmm vrmmm" sound but V is beyond us at the moment.
So for now, we are heading to bed after a completely rewarding day.