I think this is it. Frustration. Weariness. Fears. Stress. An overflow of it all has finally taken over and I’m breaking down.

I’ve battled myself plenty. I’m supposed to be strong. We chose this (well some of it) so now I deal with it. I think about how it could be worse and that helps… momentarily.

Lately, because of financial strain, we have been unable to visit our baby daily in the NICU. I don’t know how in the world we managed about $500 of gas in traveling in as little of a month. So there are days when we are stuck at home. Doing my best to remain sane. Dealing with guilt because I’m not doing my job as a mother.

I call every other hour to check on my child. Some nurses are entertaining and welcoming. Some… not so much. The communication makes the guilt stronger. Having my baby in the NICU is stressing enough…

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We walked in the NICU on Monday morning. We hadn’t seen our baby since Friday evening. I rush to wash my hands. That mandatory minute is eternal. I walk up to his pod and there he is, in a swing, his hands flaring in the air. I grab my baby, hug him, and kiss him. It’s been way too long without him in my arms.

Then the nurse comes by and tells me that I shouldn’t be waking him (although he was awake). She said that he had lost an ounce (which is why we HAD to come, because weight loss in the NICU means they don’t come home). The nurse said that he might have lost the ounce because we wake him. Then I snapped. My baby has consistently gained weight. He happened to have lost an ounce the weekend we weren’t there. I tried to remain calm, and for everyone’s sake, I hope I did. I let her know my child was awake when I grabbed him and that I have EVERY right in holding him after not having him for two days! My gosh I was about to lose my cool.

In addition, almost every sweet baby that has been in the NICU for longer than a month has been released. My baby is now the oldest one in the NICU. All the other NICU mommies I talked to and related to are gone and life in the NICU just feels a lot less welcoming and a lot more colder.

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My husband and I are tired, overwhelmed, exhausted, frustrated, and stressed beyond words. I know you will all say something like “God won’t bring you through something you can’t handle” or “TRUST God” or “Hey, you wanted to adopt a sick baby, so don’t complain”… but I think I’ve realized that it’s OKAY to express how one is tired. This part of the process is real. This part of the process exists, it isn’t pretty, it isn’t dreamy, but we do it because this is where we were called.

Guys, all I’m asking is for some MORE prayer. If you have 30 seconds to spare, can you pray for us? We wait, once again on Friday. We hope the bleeding in his eye has stopped. We hope he continues to grow stronger. We hope that Friday brings some light through this tunnel and that we can SOON bring him home. We need peace and sanity and wisdom on what to do next.

We recognize that God of course wouldn’t place us through this if He didn’t know we could endure it. So my wonderful husband and I ride this journey hand in hand, knowing that in the end, it will all get better.