It's 2:55pm. My son is 64 hours old. I am sitting by his pod in the NICU, watching his rig cage go up and down, ip and down. Sometimes it goes too fast, but at least it keeps going. The last three days have been kind of a blur. Monday we went Into the doctor and were told exactly what we were hoping to hear: "enough is enough, let's go to the hospital and get this baby out." I was thrilled. We had had an ultrasound the week before, so we knew te baby was big enough to be born. I was past the 37 week mark, so we assumed he was fully developed. I was tired of being sick, of having to limit everything I was doing, if nit being allowed to leave the house except to see the doctor, of trying to defend every action I had taken ever time my blood pressure rose
Amanda Moon