Davy is ok, yet I write today with heaviness in my eyes, exhaustion deep-set within my bones and weariness of soul.
The NICU is a paradox. It’s is a beacon of immense hope for some and simultaneously a memorial of unspeakable grief for others.
For Chelsea and I, the NICU is still a lighthouse in the midst of this tumultuous sea. Yet sadly, the family next door has lost the light and the baby didn’t make it through the day. I couldn’t confirm with the nurses (rightfully so for the privacy of the family), but it’s hard to hide the heavy sobs reverberating off the hospital walls.
I HATE this place but I LOVE this place.
I hate sickness but love the medicine that heals it. I hate that babies have to come here but I love that they have a chance at life. I hate that jobs like these…
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