As of today, half my little girl’s life has been spent in the NICU, and half has been spent at home. We’re getting pretty good at the routine, as long as we don’t expect the routine to stay exactly the same and as long as we acknowledge that some hours will be stressful. Most hours, though, aren’t stressful.
Every now and then, I have a flash of worry. What decisions should I make about her education, her participation in activities, her caregivers when Ann and I aren’t available?
But those flashes disappear quickly. I’m in love with my little Sage so much that I’m enjoying the moments we have right now.
Some things — our adoption plan, our due date, our expectations of the first two weeks of Sage’s life — turn out nothing like we had expected. But the love that I feel for her? My only mistaken assumption about that was that this love feels even bigger than I thought I was capable of feeling.