Homecoming!

Christopher's first house

The moment had finally arrived after 42 long days.  We were going home!  Setting apprehension aside, I walked out the hospital doors with Christopher in my arms.  My husband had pulled the car up to the front door and was waiting for us.  We loaded Christopher in his car seat.  We looked at each other with smiles that said, I'm happy, but I'm scared.  The car started up, and we headed for home.  Let me say that word again, "home."  It has such a great feel to it.

When we had first arrived at the hospital six weeks ago, everything was different.  Christopher was sick, but we didn't know why.  He was eating from a bottle, but more of it ended up back on the floor then in his stomach.  Now we were leaving the hospital.  We had a better idea of what was wrong, but so many things were still up in the air.  What is causing the problem with his stomach?  How do we fix it?  Is he going to have to wear a tube down his nose for the rest of his life?  Can a person really live like that?  What if the tube comes out?  What if something goes wrong with the machine, and I can't fix it?

I had a lot of questions but not a lot of answers. I felt like my whole world had been turned upside down.  I was supposed to feed my baby with a bottle not a tube.  How did this happen?  What's going to happen next?  As we drove home, I felt like we were driving into a very uncertain future.

One thing that was certain was that things were going to be quite different than I had ever imagined.  I couldn't tell if I was still stuck down in one of life's valleys or just beginning to move up the next hill.  We were going home, but it didn't feel like we had conquered much at all.  It didn't feel like we were at the top of a huge mountain celebrating a victory.  Maybe we were somewhere in between.  Maybe we were stuck somewhere on the side of the mountain. 

Wherever we were, it was better to be home than at the hospital.  At least at home we had privacy, real food, a comfortable bed, and each other.  Well...at least we had the three of us.  Michael and Ryan were not coming home quite yet.  My sister, the boys call her Auntie, had called.  Both boys had come down with the flu (I know.  I know.  Kind of ironic isn't it?)  Anyway, she didn't want any of us to get sick, especially Christopher, so she insisted on keeping the boys a little longer.

Now that's LOVE!  Who willingly volunteers to care for somebody else's sick kids?  Not to mention the fact, that her two kids were also sick, and she was about eight months pregnant at the time!  She did it anyway despite the hardship it put on her.  I have to say that she was always there for us and always offering to help out in anyway she could.  The kids absolutely loved staying with her.  They always had fun at her house.  Even now they love going to Auntie's house.  By the way, I found out later that she was throwing up right along side them.  She had the flu too, but she didn't tell me at the time because she knew that I would insist on them coming home.  Since she knew that we couldn't take the chance of Christopher getting sick, she kept the boys and took turns with them throwing up. That's self sacrifice!  My sister was amazing and still is!

We arrived home to an empty house and waited for the nurse.  It wasn't long before she knocked at the door.  She registered us into outpatient care, went over all the hospital instructions with us, and helped us get the tube feedings started.  As she left and I shut the door behind her, I couldn't help but think that it felt good to be home!

If you have never accepted Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior, you can pray like this:

More tomorrow...