Waiting on discharge paperwork

Mya and I are snuggled up in her hospital bed waiting on discharge. We are going home straight from intensive care as the types of things they handle when you step down to the floor are really her baseline and we can do all that at home. They pulled her IV over the weekend and all that remains is her PICC line to be removed before we can go home. With far fewer tubes and lines attached snuggling up is much easier and so we are sitting here jamming to Jack Johnson radio on Pandora and people watching from our corner room view down one long hallway of intensive care. She has been smiling these last few days, easing through her vest treatments and getting back to a full feeding schedule. Yesterday her brother and sister were here and she turned to each of them when I held them up to her bedside as they told her they loved her. I think Mya would say life is good.

My birthday was last week. I spent it here, obviously. My brother-in-law called to wish me well and asked me how it felt to be 28. Again. No, I am 33, I said. I won't wish away those 5 years. I have been older than my mom for most of them as she still claims 29, but 33 is fine. When I turned 28 I was still praying for a baby. Octomom was having them 8 at a time and, dear God, all I was asking for was one. We all know how that turned out and how I was blessed with not only 3 babies but also a life intermittently littered with views down the hallways of intensive care, be in neonatal or pediatric.

As usually happens with these visits, we will be taking some more equipment home with us. We are going to get set up with portable oxygen and the pulse oximeter that keeps getting denied by our insurance. An airway clearance vest will be delivered to our home this afternoon. We will only need to use the vest 'once or twice a day' I am told to hopefully prevent these sorts of visits. Sort of like the suction machine I only hold in my hand for 30 minutes in the morning and the medication (that doesn't help) that is only dosed 4 times a day and the 2 hours of standing and the list that really does go on of everything this child needs that doesn't enter into the routine of her peers. I am going to work on listening to breath sounds so that I can identify any changes. I feel a little more like a nurse every time we leave here but never less like a mother. She is amazing, this little girl. She is covered in bruises from head to toe from failed IV and central line attempts. Her voice is hoarse from irritation from the tube that went down her throat to keep her alive these last 2 weeks. And she is smiling. I could go on about all that these kids have taught me but suffice it to say that in no way would I wish away these 5 years. I am happy with 33.