Today, it was strange driving through the round about where we turned off to the airport three weeks ago. Three weeks ago, the sun had not yet risen and I was babbling at Jon to help keep him awake. Both of us felt a raw hole in our chests where part of our hearts was ripped out and taken to Melbourne. But today, the sun was shining and we turned toward Launceston.
As we backed up to the hospital to unload there was a still frame in my mind of my sedated, intubated, naked baby being loaded into the back of an ambulance against an inky black backdrop of night as I prayed that she would live - at least until I got to Melbourne. It juxtaposed strongly with the pink, healthy baby in a vivid purple grow suit, squeaking her objections over her continuous feeds being cut for the trip and waving her arms around!
As we put her into the humidi-crib in the 2 bed room I remembered standing there, feeling hollow and shell shocked and thinking "I'd do anything to get her out of there". As we gently placed her in and I decorated with teddies and quilts it felt like a triumph to finally be back in there.
Today we are closer to home.
Today I will see all my children in the same room for the first time.
Today I will sleep in the same room as my baby for the first time
Today I will walk down a familiar street to buy shampoo at a familiar supermarket.
Today is a good day.