I know the NICU nurses want to make me feel good about Emma's development and experiences, but ... to hear that her first "walk" was with the nurse, and her first smile shared with another baby was with the nurse, and the first time she laughed with someone playing "Patty Cake" with her was with ... the nurse, is a hard pill to swallow. I am pleased that some nurses take more of an interest in spending time with Emma beyond what her physical needs dictate. It warms my heart to know there are nurses who nurture her soul as well as her body. But it is as though I am awaiting word on an adoption that is taking far too long due to red-tape, while the baby is languishing in a ward, growing without the family that longs to provide her comfort, sustenance, and love on a daily, hourly, second-by-second basis. The empty cradle in the next room, the quilt with the warm chenille fabric, and the doll lovingly placed on the pillow inside the bed, all await Emma. The siblings who have not set eyes upon her in six months - since she weighed less than two pounds - already speak fondly of their baby sister, and await Emma. And I await Emma - not just word of Emma, not just the morning, afternoon, or nightly report on Emma, but the actual being of Emma.
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