Wednesday, January 9, 2013


If only I had five separate blogs and all the time in the world to wade through all the complex thoughts swirling around my head today. I'd have a blog for theology. One for politics. One about relationships. Another about photography. And then there's this one I've already got going. All about Jack, our miracle boy.

There has never been a medium that has so easily allowed people to express their emotions, on a free platform, for anyone to see. Blogging has been my therapy when I couldn't get to a therapist. It has been healing and has connected me to some of the people whom I considered the dearest. It's mind boggling, really.

When I sat down today, I didn't know what I would write about. I didn't have a topic off the top of my head or a cute Jack story to tell. Honestly, my head is in a million different places and I could write about a million different things. And that's OK. I don't sit and ponder preemies and prematurity all day long. But I do know that some of you out there have been pondering your preemie all day long. Maybe you found this blog through a Google search or from a recommendation. You came here seeking encouragement or to find information. I hope our story is a blessing to you.

Jack just came over and wanted to sit in my lap. I took a break from writing this post and just snuggled with him a bit. He has been wanting to sit in my lap lately and I love it. This time, he didn't want down. He just wanted to be held while he was watching his favorite, Mr. Noodle (all you Elmo watchers will know what I'm talking about). I took a quick glance at Facebook because I was having a back and forth with a friend. Something else entirely caught my eye. An organization that works with preemies was asking for prayer for a little one in renal failure. Jack was in renal failure. I clicked on the page, as I often do. No matter how many blogs, messages, and Facebook pages there are, I still have to look. This sweet little one is running out of time, out of options. I gripped Jack a bit tighter. I said a prayer. This. This I know. The fear that your baby will most likely not make it. 

And so I will sign out now. Although I don't think about preemies all day long, it's always there. Right under the surface. In my arms a lot of the time. Always. 

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1 comment: said...

Yes. You just can't help it. We feel the other family's pain and it rekindles that fear. Daphne still faces kidney disease but we were also told she was probably not going to make it because of kidney failure in the NICU. I've been thinking of that family since yesterday too.