We didn't plan for this to happen

The days are blurring together

This was from sometime in September

Mom and I have been at the Ronald McDonald house for eleven days now. A typical day goes as follows: We wake up, and in a zombie like state we drive to Starbucks for a venti White Chocolate Mocha. Once the caffeine begins to work its magic, we travel to the hospital and try to find a parking space within the labyrinth of the parking garage. We take two elevators (I’ve never been on elevators so much in my life). We navigate the maze of hospital corridors, and we know the route like the back of our hand. We enter the neonatal ICU, scrub up, and go visit Cadence. We stay for several hours, but we must be back at the Ronald McDonald house by 6 for dinner. After dinner, we return back to the hospital to visit Cadence more.

Days are blurring by. I don’t know what day it is and I don’t care. I just want my child home! The chaplain said that it might be a good idea for me to take a break from the hospital for a while, so Mom and I might go to the art museum later. I don’t like not being at the hospital, I feel like if I’m not there I’m being a neglectful mother. But I’m also emotionally exhausted.

The hospital is decorated in such a cheery way, but beneath the façade is a reservoir of sadness and worry and pain. Every day I see someone crying, or a child having surgery (they perform the surgeries right there in the open). Maybe the chaplain’s right; maybe I should take a break.