Friday, June 18, 2010



Dear Max,

You are three weeks old today. It is hard to believe you've spent your first 21 days of life in the hospital. Being home without you, seems strange. I wake every morning and see your empty bassinet at the foot of my bed, waiting for you. I try to be strong and not let your brother and sisters know how sad I am and how much I miss you, but it's getting harder every day.
I spend my days at the hospital feeding, changing, and snuggling you. Dad stops in during the day too and then visits you again each night. We try hard to spend as much time with you as we can, but it never feels like enough. The hardest part is saying "good-bye" and leaving you there lying in your little crib without us.
Your brother and sisters like to come visit too. Payton has been coming with me every day. She loves to hold and love on you. She is a special girl and will be such a great big sister to you. She and Avery have been playing "NICU" recently and have organized their bedrooms just like your little space at the hospital. They are excited for you to come home so they can have a "real' baby to authenticate their make-believe play.
Your dad and I are so anxious to have you home, Max. We joke about "stealing" you from the NICU, or as your parents, telling them it's our right to bring you home... NOW! We know that wouldn't be wise, but we're just getting impatient and really want you home where we can care for you ourselves.
I am so sorry for all you have endured, Max. It truly breaks my heart. Watching from the side-lines, I don't know how you do it, because it's been A LOT. Thank you for being strong, my tiny boy, and fighting hard to be here and continuing to do so. The Dr.s still remind us how lucky we are to have you. Although they say we almost lost you, I always knew you'd make it, Max. I knew you were meant to be a part of this family. So, I will continue to pray for you, hope for you, and always love and care about you.
Your dad calls me an idealist. He often tells me I need to be a realist.
It's just not my style.
You'll be home soon, Max. I just know it. And everything WILL be O.K.
When that day finally arrives, we'll all celebrate BIG...
for you, ...our tiny miracle.
Sweet dreams,
Mama