God is still in control.
Doctor rounds require not just mental but emotional bolstering, but missing one leaves too much room for guessing.
Words like bradycardia or apnea or desat actually have meaning.
The innocent question, "when do you get to go home?" can cause a crying breakdown or angry meltdown or both.
Nurses chart everything...diaper weights, who fed the baby, poop color, skin color changes, etc.
Your breathe can hang on weigh-in time (why at 2am?! nothing good could happen then)...grams gained or lost mean worlds.
Getting to hold your child for a whole unscheduled hour is a luxury.
Seeing new babies come in brings waves of compassion for the parents and prayers for total strangers.
Sometimes it felt like James wasn't even ours but that we were renting a baby; they said it was a normal feeling for NICU parents.
It is beautiful to see who "shows up" (phone calls, visits, texts, cards, dinners, etc) when life gets stormy.
The less privacy means a sicker baby...at our hospital at least.
All sorts of crap can all be ordered for the same day...hello catheter, new IV port, lumbar puncture, brain sonogram, and blood draw.