Born of Frustration

Lillian and her mom

I have never been good with big lessons. The moment someone tells me I ought to do something, I dig in my heels. Patience is a big lesson I have never really managed to learn. The thing about micro preemies is everything goes so s-l-o-w. We make a little bit of progress one day and it’s undone the next.

I seem to be having the hardest time with the little progress aspect of the NICU. I realize that maybe I ought to take this time to learn patience. But since I “ought” to I don’t want to. As Josh astutely pointed out, I am the Veruca Salt of level 3: I want it now!

Her breathing progresses in the tiniest of steps. The main thing is that her lungs make minuscule progress every day. I don’t know how other parents sit like saints at their child’s bedside. I sit there chanting “grow lungs grow!”  I can work myself into a horrible mood in seconds by dwelling on her breathing.

But, some days I astonish myself with how much patience I’ve gained. I don’t watch her alarms, trusting Lillian to work her way out of any “de-sats”, which she does regularly with no trouble. The next day I am made of frustration. Nothing is going fast enough, and I can get obsessive about every alarm beep. I even hear the alarms in my sleep.

Lillian in her Mom's hands

Unfortunately Lillian is her mother’s daughter. As soon as the Doctor thinks she ought to be weaned from the vent, she digs in her heels and refuses to budge. She is almost a month old and already has a determined face. It says, “I am determined to ruin the day of anyone who crosses me.” I am told this is a good sign.

So Lillian and I both wait for her to get big. We both are frustrated by the long road ahead. Hey, at least we’re not alone on that road. I can hold her hand, and sometimes she even holds mine.