The Morning After

Yesterday, on Saturday, we got a call around 9 AM from the hospital-- the hearing test lady wanted to know where we were, they wanted to discharge our baby. We had planned on being at rounds at 10:30, and we figured we could sleep in a little. I was sceptical that she'd even be released so soon. So we hustled up there, without any bottles or diapers (brought the milk pump just in case we had to go directly to the shower that afternoon). We half expected to see her sitting on the curb. Dutch dropped me off and I went up to her floor. The ICN was crowded, so yesterday she was moved into the micro-preemie room (the sanctum sanctorum of the ICN-- dimmed lights, the baby arks draped with isolette covers, covered windows, the Darth Vader gasp of the breathing machines) and in respectful whispers we signed papers, agreed to the discharge instructions and paid careful attention as our nurse demonstrated a preemie bath with a rubber doll who had a colostomy tube. While our nurse emptied out her crib, I tried to buckle her into her car seat. I had just dressed her for the first time, and she was without tubes and wires. Except for her size, she was starting to look like a normal baby. Dutch went to get the car and our nurse carried her out of the micro preemie room. He took a picture of us for the bragging wall, and all the nurses gave me hugs. Our nurse had to carry her out and sign for her at the security desk.