I am tired. Truly, completely, utterly tired. I feel like I’m whining when I say that. But today is a whiny day.
Last night Daniel and I went to the preemie parent support group. All the parents with babies in the NICU can come for dinner and discussion about how much it sucks to have a baby in the NICU. I thought it would be helpful. But I was wrong.
The other parents there were taking their babies home after being at Northside for 5, 6, 7 weeks. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t wish any ill will on them. But it’s hard to get reminders over and over again on how much worse Josh is than so many babies here. I know he’s so much better off than many of them. I know we’re blessed to have him with us at all. But we’ve been here for three weeks and we’ll be here eleven more.
I’m already so tired of being here. The nurses are great; Josh is getting the best care possible and he’s doing pretty well. It’s just exhausting. We come in here, we read to him, we change him, and then we just watch the nurses take care of him.
I think that is what’s hardest to deal with. Josh doesn’t need me. I’m sure he likes it when I hold him and read to him but at the end of the day I can’t do anything but sit and watch other people help him. Last night he was having trouble with his oxygen and heart rate and I just had to sit and listen to his alarms go off. I couldn’t do anything to help him.
People keep telling me I’m strong. I started to believe them because until last night this week was easy. We got nothing but good reports. It’s easy to be strong and courageous when everything is going well. And then as soon as something went wrong, something that wasn’t even that big of a deal, I lost it. I cried and despaired and that was it. I didn’t even think to pray.
I’m not strong. I wish I was. I wish I was more faithful and hopeful and the kind of person who showed others what a walk with Jesus looks like. But I’m not. I’m just tired.
I’m so, so tired.