Adjustments

I was struck the other day by how accustomed Paul and I have gotten to the strange and unnatural world of the NICU. It hit me when seeing the expression on a friend's face when she was visiting Eli for the first time. An alarm started beeping, signaling Eli was "desatting," a fairly common occurrence in which the level of oxygen in his blood drops slightly. I stood by calmly as one of the nurses, equally calmly, repositioned Eli and fiddled with a couple of dials, boosting his oxygen back to normal. My friend looked as if she were going to have a heart attack. For a moment, I was taken aback; then I realized this must be what I used to look like during our early days in the NICU. Back then, it seemed impossible that we could ever get used to this environment of incubators and bleating round-the-clock monitors in which we have to ask permission to hold our baby. But, somehow, we have.

I now understand the fear that reappears in the eyes of other NICU parents we've gotten to know when they're told, suddenly in some cases, that their babies are ready to go home. I realize how scary it will be when there are no monitors, no alarms, no highly trained doctors and nurses watching Eli's every breath. It will be a major adjustment, albeit a joyous one. And it's one I'm certain we can make, because if we can get through this we can get through anything.