I just got done packing away Lauren's newborn sized clothes. I'm sad. I know I should be happy that she's growing and getting bigger, and I am, for the most part. But I'm mad. And pissed. And I feel cheated. I feel cheated out of the newborn stage of Lauren's life. We spent five weeks in the hospital instead of at home. Attached to tubes and wires instead of cuddling on the couch. The outfit I picked for Lauren to wear to church for the first time? She didn't get to wear it to church. All of those super cute outfits I picked for her? Kind of hard to wear when you have to be assessed for how blue your skin is. Kind of hard to wear when you have to get a new IV every four hours because your veins are so tiny and the medication is so strong. Kind of hard to wear when you have to have your whole body checked to find out where the infection started that made your blood go septic. Impossible to get your baby dressed when you can't pick her up. When the only area you can kiss is her foot because everywhere else is covered by gauze, IVs, a respirator, arterial lines and a pulse oximeter.
So yeah, today I'm sad. I'm sad that Lauren wasn't home to wear her clothes. I'm sad that I probably won't have another baby to wear them either. I'm sad that we can't get that time back. I am so incredibly thankful that she's alive, healthy and all mine. I'm thrilled that she's getting bigger and stronger every day. I feel so incredibly lucky that Lauren is mine. I try really hard to be positive 100% of the time. Most of the time I am beyond happy. But my emotions are all swirled around and mixed together and overlapping.
Honestly when I look back to Lauren's open heart surgery and accompanying hospital stay I feel like I'm looking at somebody else's life. Like it happened to somebody else's family. It's so surreal most of the time. But I feel like it hit me today how sick my baby was. How many major setbacks we had in the hospital. How close we might've been to not having her here with us today. When I hold her in my arms I look into her almond shaped eyes, I kiss her tiny nose, her sweet chubby cheeks and her rosebud lips. I trace her scar that is already just a thin silver line. And I thank God that she's mine. I thank God that I get to be sad about her clothes not fitting because she wears a bigger size. We are the lucky ones.