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This is my grandson on the second day of his life. I can't believe it has been almost a year. I'm so thankful that he is now a healthy little boy. Journaling: Our dear little boy – so tired and stressed from birth trauma. Your mom called me this morning to tell me that your blood sugar had plunged, so the doctor had sent you to the NICU. You have IVs and wires to monitor everything you do. My heart dropped, and I feared that you wouldn’t be okay. I immediately prayed, prayed for your life, for strength for your parents, and wisdom for the doctors that were helping you. You were too weak to eat or to even wake up long enough to try to eat. You were the largest baby in the NICU – an 8 pound, 1 ounce baby that couldn’t stay awake. I arrived at the NICU determined you would wake up and eat, and although you opened your eyes for a few minutes, you didn’t eat. As much as I wanted to, I, as the mother of your mother, could not fix this for her. Instead of resting and healing from the difficult birth, your Mom was walking back and forth from her room to the NICU. She would try to feed you, and fail, stay as long as she could, go back to her room and pump, and then go back to you and start the process all over again. I could see how exhausted she was, but she was determined to do everything in her power to help you heal. We felt helpless as we waited for the lab results that might or might not tell us what was wrong. The doctors suspected that you may have had a stroke. I worried about you, worried about your Daddy, and I worried about your Mommy who is my little girl. I begged and pleaded with God, “Please God, Please God, Please God, let him be okay, and please help Angie; give her strength, and thank you for Tim because he will help her through this.”The night came to an end, and it was time for us to go. When we put you in your little bed, you seemed distressed that we would leave you. I put my hand in your isolette and held your hand. As I leaned down to whisper words of comfort, you pulled yourself over to me; you ended up with your face right against the glass – as if to say, “Grandma, please don’t leave me here.” I wanted to take you home so badly. We had the nurse come over and rig up your bed so that you wouldn’t hit the glass. She put a little bean bag octopus on top of you, and you acted more secure, but we knew that you wanted to be out of there and home with your Mommy and Daddy. We left the NICU that night, tearful, tired, discouraged, and saddened that your condition did not allow you to leave with us.
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