Before leaving the house today, I was talking with my Husband and saying that I sometimes felt I was taking for granted the magnitude of what I was getting to do when I present checks to hospitals. You go, you say a few words, take a few pictures, chat and then head home. It felt as if I was losing sight of the big picture. Today I went up and as usual I presented my check but before I took the pictures I had the chance to tell my story to a bunch of strangers who didn’t know me.. know my why.
The hard part of explaining the magnitude that the NICU experience had on my life is that when you see me cry when speaking, people automatically think something bad happened to my children and they are not healthy now. Most people will say “ but they are ok today though, right?” I guess the short answer in that is emphatically yes… but thats the thing when you are sitting in that chair. There are NO guarantees your baby or their health will come out on top. There are no timelines in the NICU. You sit, you wait… wait for someone else to tell you the next step in the plan. The waiting place is the hardest place to be…
Often, the tears often come from a happy place, one of gratitude and peace – realizing the thousands of people who support this special unit. But, like today, there are times where it comes from remembering two tiny babies sitting in a bed fighting for their lives. The smell of the soap, the beeping of the machines and the overwhelming feeling of being helpless engulfs you.
I am inspired by the staff in hospitals like Jefferson who continue to put families first. Who, despite the already excessive demands placed on doctors and nurses to perform in stressful situations, make this commitment to strive for excellent family based care values and offer their families every option available to bond.
If you are counting, this is our 7th partner hospital, totaling well over $100,000 in donations in 3 years.
I have no intention in slowing down❤️
Post coming later on my other special donation today ❤️
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