I Hope

I went and dropped off some baby blankets at the NICU about 3 weeks ago.

I walked in and spoke with a couple of nurses and generally shot the shit for a while.

I have to hang around while they "inspect" the blankets to make sure there is no fringe to get caught on cords or wires and making sure the all cotton and acrylic were separated etc. This takes a while because I package mine - the hospital has a rule that they won't take anything unless it's in it's original package, smart, but difficult for me b/c I make these by hand. So the solution - gallon sized zip lock bags, with labels made from my printer - instant packaging. The nurses have to take everything out and put it back in and it takes a while.

I'm not allowed near the babies but I peak into some of the rooms and marvel at how something so tiny could be so beautiful.

A mother walked in and walked over to her baby that was in the same spot my son was when he was there. She gently picked him up, cradling him so tenderly and sang him lullabyes and kisses him so, so gently on his head. She stayed that way for a long time.

She started crying those deep racking sobs - soul wrenching. She had her hand resting on top of his stomach and legs, he was that small that her one hand covered all of that and just cried and cried.

I was immediately taken back to when Connor was born and he was in that very same NICU and I was sitting in a rocking chair that was almost exactly the same, and I did the exact same thing. I cried and cried.

I could identify with her pain. I don't think I'll ever get over the fear, the terror, of watching him, holding him, and praying to GOD that he would take another breath.

I went and I took 2 blankets out of the ones I brought. One, a soft blue with white trim, the other was a solid barely pink. I walked over to the mom in the rocking chair and laid the blue blanket over the baby and the mom smiled up at me, that crooked crying smile and then I laid the pink on her leg and told her "Mommies sometimes need extra love too."

She held my hand and we stood like that for a long time.

I can't stop thinking about that mom. I hope she's okay. I hope the baby is okay. I hope she gets to watch in grow and play peek-a-boo with him. I hope she gets to see his first smile. I hope she gets to hear him say I love you. I hope she gets to read him bedtime stories and watch him splash in the tub. I hope he gets to aggravate her to death every night by getting up every ten minutes for a cup of water.

I hope they're okay. I hope that someone is there to help her. I hope someone is there to give them a little extra love.