Anyone who’s ever been pregnant (to term) will tell you that the ninth month of pregnancy lasts approximately 68475840383758202 years. I’m beginning to think the same is true for that final stretch of NICU life. Since the day Emmett was born, the doctors and nurses have all told us to plan to be here until around his original due date. Sometimes babies go home sooner, sometimes later, but the due date is a pretty average target for a release date when you have a preemie, particularly a really early one. And I think I was okay with that until Sunday when we were teased with the possibility of an early release. Since then E has slipped back into his old ways. Frequent but minor desats, occasional bradys, lack of progress on the eating front. On the bright side, he’s off oxygen still. But it’s looking like these feeding issues will be the final hurdle.
I’m just exhausted and I’ve hit my wall. I know we’re almost done, and he really is doing well. But for some reason I’m having a harder time now than I ever have. I just want him healthy and home so we can begin normal life.