Whirlwind

Meeting him for the first time was emotional. I was intimidated by his small size. Wires, tags and machinery consumed his small little incubator. Bruises all over his fragile body were from the trauma he sustained at birth.  Yet he was perfect in every way. 10 fingers, 10 toes. What more could a mom ask for? We were naive that day, consumed in pure bliss, how lucky were we? We get to lay eyes on OUR baby this soon? My son went from being a Virgo to being a Taurus; I thought to myself… Friends and family sent their congratulations, along with flowers & gifts for Jr..
I remember the smell of rubbing alcohol and how cold the NICU was. We knew they were going to keep him there for the next 4 months but that didn’t matter. We were ready to do the hard work and sacrifice any and everything to bring our son home safe and healthy. The hospital overloaded us with various information on NICU support groups, Ronald Mcdonald charity perks, and everything else that comes with newborns and preemies. Overwhelming as it was, we were ready.
I had read online about the miracles of breast milk, how a newborn went from critically ill at birth, to almost cured over night. So there I was, insisting they send my milk down to NICU every four hours religiously. Thinking back I wonder if they ever did.. It wasn’t until the third day he was alive the nurses came to wheel the breast pump out of our hospital room, almost as if to imply “silly girl, your son is barely stable, surely he cant receive your milk right now” . I remember feeling 100% defeated as a mother in that moment.