I feel my eyelids start to drift. Heavy, puffed up by old tears. The monitors chiming softly in the background are so familiar now. Even though there are six of you in the room, I still recognize your familiar pattern with every beep.
I smile. It's cruel. How the thing that keeps monitoring your vitals has become such a soothing sound. Almost like wind chimes blowing in the breeze of a hot summer's day. Breathe in, breathe out. Beep, beep. I open one eye softly. You're still there, where else would you be. Tucked up in your incubator. Wires and tubes going in all directions. Chest slowly rising and falling in its regular rhythm. The nurses have made you a poster with all the things you like, and a kind granny has knitted you a blanket. I'm not sure lemon is your colour. But it has been made with love and is much appreciated.
Day 73. There were days we didn't think we would get this far. One step at a time. One foot in front of the other. The NICU doctor reminded me earlier it's like watching the TV. Try not to look at the whole screen, but instead just one pixel at a time. Sometimes that's hard, mind you, especially after days like today.
You decided to come out, nothing was stopping your early arrival. I really did try to keep you in, keep you safe. My god, you're determined. Your strength and bravery has me in awe. I hope you carry that forward in everything you do.