Dreamers deal with immaturity

It takes a lot to ruffle me these days.  And even this isn't doing it.

This is a big week for Kenna. 

She is on higher calorie dosage.  She is taking even larger feedings.  And so far...she is tolerating everything.

Tomorrow she has her first eye exam.  I'm ready for it.  I am thrilled that one of her primaries will have her that day.  I needed that.  I know how traumatic the experience can be.  They told me that she would have Versed in advance to relax her.  I hope so.  And I may still camp out there.  That's what mommies do.

Ah, and then there's today.

Today is lab work day.  We need to see how her liver functions are doing.  We need to see how her CBC looks.  It could mean another transfusion. 

All I know is that we were there for her blood gas yesterday.  It was a little rough.  She's older and wiser than the last time I saw her get her blood gases drawn.  Kenna knew what was going to happen as soon as the warmer hit her heel.  She puckered.  Her brow furrowed.  And it was a bit unsettling to watch.

Somehow we ended up on the topic of babies and shots.  I looked at Sam as we crowded around the womb room.

me: I've been known to cry when they get their shots.

Sam: You cry?

me: Yup.  Just wait.  They look at you like you're some kind of traitor standing there while they are hurting...not stopping the pain.  So, yeah, I cry.  And then I take them home and snuggle them and drug them with ibuprofen to take all the hurt away.

Only I can't take away the immaturity.  I can't take away the hurt associated with being born too soon.  I can't do anything about Kenna's lungs.

And so we hope that the protein powder added to her milk will work a miracle and help them mature, something they didn't have a chance to do inside me.  And we hope that she gets to the place where she can breathe on her own, sooner, rather than later.  And we're as patient as can be while we wait.

It could be so much worse.  Really, we are blessed.