October 15th, 2012 - part 3
While we were trying to laugh off the morning's events (part 1, part 2), Matilda's body was aching for survival, but failing. And with it, my hope - although it ached for survival - was also beginning to fail.
There comes a point when logic and honesty start wearing down a person's hope. My logical self wanted to begin a process of preparation. I needed to prepare myself that Matilda might not make it out of this hospital in my arms. My honest self looked at her dark skin and long list of complications and could not imagine that her liver would be able recover. I posted this on Facebook:
In the last hour, Matilda has thrown up twice and her blood sugar has dropped to 29. They gave her a boost of sugar and now it is up to 57. My heart drops every time something like this happens. Pray that we can get Matilda stable tonight so that I can hold and comfort her.I remember sitting across from her isolette and all I could see was this little hand sticking out of a heap of blankets. I just kept looking at it with tears flooding my eyes. I wanted that little hand to grow big. To reach out for mine as she learned to walk. To hold onto mine as we crossed the street. To rest next to mine while we waited for our nails to dry. I hardly ever do my nails, but the thought that Matilda might never get to have her's done caused such a pain in my heart. I stared at that little hand and I dreamed of all it could accomplish and all it could hold.
I was so tired. Matilda continued to throw up all night long. I held her for as long as they would let me. I sang her lullabies. I recited prayers. I cried.
