a long 12 days...

Emily was 7 weeks premature and lived in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) for the first 12 days of her life.

These 12 days stretched me and broke me to the core.  I was completely powerless.  I had absolutely no control over what was going to happen to my precious little girl. 

By day 2, the doctors sent me home... without my baby.  Heartbreaking.

I wasn't allowed to stay the night in NICU.  No beds and no visitors after a certain hour.  This was hard.

Every morning, I got out of bed and hoped that today, she was just a little bit stronger than the day before.

And as I walked into the NICU every morning, and listened to the beeping of all the monitors, the cries and screams of the babies, and the whails and mourning of the families whose babies just didn't make it that day...  as I watched the nurses continously move IV's from Emily's tiny veins in her feet, to the veins in her wrists, to the veins in her head, and as I watched my helpless daughter feed from a tube...  all I could do was put my trust and hope in Him.

Once again, I didn't realize He was all I needed, until He was all I had.  During these 12 days, He was my Hope, He was my Strength ,and He was my Rock.


I am so thankful that there is Something, Someone bigger than myself.  Because there was nothing I could do.

By day 12, I left the hospital...  with my baby.

  Mistake:  I didn't believe in miracles.

  Lesson:  Miracles happen everyday.

"Every child is a story to be told."  ~Anonymous