Trip Down Memory Lane

We went to the doctor today for a check-up. Benjamin weighs EIGHT pounds! I was so happy I could have jumped up and down right there in the office. :) Silly as it may be, there is something about each ounce and pound he gains that makes me feel proud. You see, I do my very best to keep my milk supply up and stuff him full at every opportunity.They told me that weight gain may be one of Benjamin's biggest challenges resulting from his prematurity. At times, this feels like a daunting task... like it's all I do. I exist to produce milk and feed it to Benjamin... So, needless to say, I cherish these moments of weight gain news.

After his appointment, we went upstairs to visit the NICU for the first and last time since he graduated over a month ago. They were so happy to see him again, and that made my heart smile. We pulled him out of his carseat and and passed him around, spreading the joy that only babies bring.

I came across this clever poem months ago while I was reading a book on premature infants. I'd like to share it with you as its perfect words echo the very thoughts and feelings that Mark and I experienced. Enjoy!



When I first saw you, kid, you were tiny and thin
And slimy and red and your head was mushed in.
I said to your mother, “He looks kind of sloppy,
And two pounds four ounces ain’t big for a crappie.”

But something about you, the look in your eyes,
Said you fully intended to grow to full size.
They slapped your backside and you let out a cry,
And I said, “We will keep him, at least we shall try.”

Some babies are born in nine months, by the clock.
Some babies are born, and they sit up and talk.
Some babies are born, and no doctor is there.
But some babies come in on a wing and a prayer.

Poor little fetus as big as your hand.
Poor little fish thrown up on dry land.
Who came in late April though he had till July,
Too small to live and too precious to die.

They shipped you downstairs to the big Neonatal
Intensive Care Unit’s computerized cradle
And attached you to wires and stuck you with tubes
Monitored closely by digital cubes.

And thanks to the latest neonatal therapeusis
And regular basting with greases from gooses
And hot chicken soup intravenously fed
You did not fade away but grew up instead.

We’ll always remember the months that you spent
With tubes in your head in the oxygen tent
And the mask on your face, the wires attached.
Sweet little baby who was only half hatched.

I’m sure you’ll grow up and mature and extend
To six feet six inches and become a tight end.
But I’ll always remember each doctor and nurse in
The NICU who helped make you a person.
The kid who crash landed, who was carried away,
Who survived it, this bundle we bring home today.

~ Garrison Keillor ~