Week 38, Day 6, Preparation

Today we got most of the medical devices we'll use at home to make sure Hannah is OK. This includes a pulse oximeter (measures blood oxygenation), apnea monitor (warns if Hannah stops breathing), suction machine (to clear out her nose or mouth if necessary), and portable oxygen tanks and cannulas. The big oxygen tank will be delivered to the house later. A nurse will also visit the house daily for the first few weeks, then three times a week after that. We learned how to connect, monitor, and react to any warnings the machines produce, but they are very similar to the ones we're already used to in the NICU.

The training for the medical devices happened to be held in the same small room in the NICU where we last saw Steven. I'm sure that everyone there wondered why Carla was crying over the medical monitors we were being shown, but I couldn't think of a suitable way to explain the real source of her grief. We hadn't really thought much about that room since the day Steven died, but as the trainer led us toward the room I saw Carla's stride falter as she realized where we were headed. I paid extra close attention to the trainer and demonstrations, because I am almost certain Carla will remember none of it, and I can't blame her.

Our sleepover with Hannah went well last night, but neither Carla or I got much sleep, so we were pretty much zombies today. Hannah's hearing was tested today and checked out OK. Her fourth eye test was yesterday, and also checked out OK.

We'll probably room in again tomorrow night and hopefully bring Hannah home Saturday. Carla is apprehensive, but I'm sure we'll do fine.

As I walked the hallways of the hospital this morning to fetch a soda for Carla, having left her and Hannah in the room, I felt a serenity that I've been missing for many months. I realized just how far we've come from those days in July when I walked the same corridors, trying not to cry. It's clear now from the optimism of the doctors and nurses that Hannah will be more than just fine, and that most of our little worries are now on the same scale as those of any new parents.

I just wish that my Dad were still here to see Hannah smile, and that Steven were lying next to her in the crib, and that Carla and I were still worrying about the challenges of raising twins instead of the challenges of raising a preemie. And I wish I could tell Dad just one more time that Hannah will be home and healthy soon, and everything is going to be just fine.