Yes, we're still going through the preemie NICU hospital vigil, but it's entered a phase that involves my wife being at the hospital all day long trying to breastfeed Zoey, and me staying at home trying to remain sane taking care of our 19-month-old son. Hence, not a lot of time to post lengthy missives about our ongoing experience.
Apologies for the blog silence as of late, in other words. Not sure who I'm apologizing to, now that I think about it. Myself, mostly.
Today would have been my wife's actual due date for the twins, although the hospital would have gone in for a C-section two to three weeks prior to the due date to alleviate any possible complications.
Possible complications. . .
What I wouldn't give for "possible complications" over the reality of the last four months. My God, man. Who would have thought "possible complications" would have been a best case scenario? It's like being given a choice between having ebola or a cold.
Zoey is now five-and-a-half pounds, and by all accounts she's extraordinarily healthy, all things considered. She sleeps like her life depends on it--and I suppose it probably does--but that seriously hinders her breastfeeding efforts, because you can't suck on a boob if you're asleep. That's a scientific fact I just made up entirely in my own mind, but it rings true.
We drove past my jiu-jitsu gym tonight on our way home from grocery shopping, and I was struck by how much I miss training, which I haven't had an opportunity to do since December. You wouldn't think that would be high on my list of whining nostalgia, but jiu-jitsu training was one of those things that was uniquely my pursuit outside of family life before the hospital vigil started. Plus, it sucks to think all the other students are getting better than me by the day. Oh well, I'll get back into it once things start to settle down.
They HAVE to settle down, or I'll be dead before I'm 45.
I tell you what: I just put a new 32" television in the basement where one never existed previously, and the 19-month-old boy just accepts it not as if it's a novelty, but as if it's been there all his life, and belongs there. It's frustrating and cute at the same time.
While shaving this morning, I had surprisingly vivid memories of Finn's death. Not sure what triggered them but, jeez, I hope they don't hit randomly at unfortunate times. Remembering is important, of course, but I sure wouldn't want to zone out and be reduced to a blubbering mess during a freelance interview, for example.
