52 Days

52 has been a very meaningful number for me. When Kylie was only a few days old we met another mother in the NICU.  I asked her how long her son had been in the hospital.  She told me 52 days.  I was horrified.  Who could possibly last that long?  It had only been a couple of days and I was devastated by our circumstance.  I went home and cried at the thought, knowing full well that our baby would never have to stay that long.  I also knew that if she did, I certainly was not strong enough to go through it all.  I prayed for that poor mother and for the strength to last the few weeks that we would have to endure.  That number stayed in my head as a benchmark.  At least I knew we wouldn’t have to last 52 days.  

Yesterday, our sweet Kylie came home.  She and Dallin met.  Dallin is overjoyed and wants to spend all his time poking, pulling and pushing his new sister.  Emily has taken on the maternal role of telling Dallin what he can and cannot do and trying to provide for all of Kylie's needs.  David and I need a nap.  Anyway, we are thrilled that our whole family is finally together.  By the way, yesterday Kylie spent her 52^nd and final day in the NICU. –Amy