Amelia and Josephine are doing alright. It just seems to be one thing after another with Jo, however. Breathing problems, throwing up half her feedings, hard time regulating her temperature. These sound like small things, but wow, they are huge to me. Amelia is doing really well - she nursed 4 milliliters of milk straight from me. Way to go Millie!
We are so blessed. The lactation specialist for the NICU has taken me under her wing, and somehow managed to get the babies moved into a private room. There's only about a 1 in 20 chance of getting a quiet room, and we got it! It makes a world of difference. It's quieter. It's peaceful. It's secluded. No more pulling the curtains around an open bay with five other preemie babies crying, or loud nurses waking up my babies. We are LUCKY. So grateful.
Postpartum blues/depression is like the final kick in the butt of pregnancy. It's like Pregnancy is stating its final, dying threat: You thought you were done with me - hah! Take this! I know I'm suffering from it. It's heightening my already taut nerves and overwrought anxieties about leaving my babies in the care of strangers. I hate leaving the hospital, but I just can't be there all the time. I need things like sleep and food.
Anyway. This is tough, guys. The single most difficult situation I've ever faced. Thanks goodness for Trevor.
Oh, and, we've been married for three years as of today. Happy Anniversary to us. Hopefully next anniversary will be spent, well, a little differently.