13 days

For a mama, the one thing getting you through a painful labor and pushing is the thought that you will hear your baby cry and be able to hold them, love them, cherish them, as soon as it's over. For mama's of preemies and babies with complications, that isn't a reality. When Sara was born, she had breathing complications as well and didn't breathe for about the first 25 seconds of her life. I was EXPECTING to hear her cry, so those 25 seconds seemed like an absolute eternity. I was scared to death, but I didn't know the reality of the situation so I "knew" things would be okay.

At June's birth, I KNEW things might not be okay. I KNEW she wasn't going to breathe on her own. I fully expected that. So that icy silence that greets you as you push your tiny baby out was deafening. It was so loud, yet so steely quiet at the same time. And for the past 13 days, while we have been able to look into her eyes, hold her hand, snuggle her once to me...we've still had pure, heartbreaking silence.

Until today.

Today, my 13 day old daughter CRIED and I HEARD HER. I heard her weak, fragile cry. I asked the nurse (Carrie -- our favorite), "Is that June?!" And she said, "Mama, THAT is your baby." She opened the side of the isolette and lifted her up into my hands. As soon as my hands cradled her (this is the easiest way to hold her without having to move/tape tubes and cords) my sweet, precious girl calmed down. She stopped crying and snuggled right into my hands. I could not stop crying for what seemed like hours, literally. I think Carrie even cried a little.

Today, for the FIRST time, I am at peace with whatever may happen. I have a strong faith in God and I know whatever happens is His perfect will. And don't think I'm morbid when I say this -- but if the unthinkable were to happen....I have heard my daughter's voice. I am at peace. It is in God's hands.