Oh, I might as well spill the beans…
LUKE IS COMING HOME TOMORROW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yup. The day has finally arrived. We didn’t mean to spring it on you – but we weren’t for sure, for sure, until this morning at rounds. Quite honestly, after my 4am phone call to the night nurse, when I learned he had lost a little weight, I really thought we’d be there until Monday. But, when the neonatologist called my pediatrician, that tipped the scales. To quote Dr. Enders, “Send that baby home!”
Sing it sister.
So, we’re bustin’ out of that joint sometime tomorrow. Still. In. Shock.
He had a great day – obviously – and I have to share a few God moments with you. The first came at a completely unexpected time (don’t they all?) I was nursing Luke. Thank the good Lord we finally found a position that doesn’t require me to take a bottleful of hydrocodone and one that he doesn’t freak out because the milk isn’t coming out fast enough. I pulled up my email and read a most precious note from Sr. Maria Gemma. But, it was the prayer that she sent that caused a tear buildup.
Huh, how about that? I never, ever, thought about my cross being hand selected. Common sense, or perhaps spiritual sense, but it took this prayer to open my eyes. Luke was hand-picked by God to be our son. And this cross we bear has Luke attached. I mean, he didn’t just give us heart issues, brain worries, small kidneys and an icky gut. Nope. He gave them to us in a cute, little, lovable package named Luke Timothy. How lucky are we? Our cross smiles at us and goes all milk drunk. He doesn’t talk back (yet) and loves to snuggle. I may not like the ten million follow-up doctor visits we’ve made for the coming weeks, but I’m darn sure glad my cross is just about the cutest thing I’ve ever laid my eyes upon.
I was a little giddy all afternoon thinking about having Luke home. Then the torrent of emotions hit.
Tears filled my eyes as I journeyed up to the hospital for the last time tonight. It didn’t really hit me until I exited I-35 and could see the Dell Children’s tower in the distance. Immediately, I could feel my eyes burning. The place in which Luke has called home for far too long would be no more in a little less than 24 hours.
And again when I saw one of our favorite night nurses. She saw me carrying the carseat (just a word to the wise, when a mom comes bounding in with a carseat, home is in her baby’s future) and when I shared our good news, she said, “Oh, Kathryn, that makes me want to cry.” And then she promptly did.
Yep, again tonight as I nursed Luke, I held his little body and my eyes wandered around the room…
Instead of a hard steel bed to sleep in, Luke has a cozy bassinet next to our bed.
Instead of a drawer with all his clothes, they’ll be neatly hung in his closet and laid in his dresser.
Instead of a phone and a password that give me access to his room, I just have to open my eyes and see him before me.
Instead of beeping monitors blaring his heartrate and respirations, I can just hold him to my chest and feel his heart beating, ever so softly.
Instead of a photo of his family, affixed to the bed, we will all surround him at night as we give out Luke kisses.
There is no greater joy. No amount of words. Not enough happy tears.
Our family will soon be – well, a family. It’s time for Scott and I to head to bed, one last time, with Luke in a different zip code. Tomorrow, oh tomorrow. It will be grand.