A wish for someday

Today was much, much, much, much better than yesterday.

For the most part Cora just rested in a nice drug-induced slumber. Every couple of hours throughout the day she would come-to, furious, and show everyone just how "here" she really is. Out of a dead sleep she would wake up swinging punches at whoever or whatever was in arm's reach. She absolutely detests having a breathing tube in, and I can't say I blame her in the least. But for that reason we have to keep her pretty deeply sedated, and when she wakes she gets topped off with more meds. She badly needs her rest.

Jason and I both had a hard time sleeping last night. For me, I would review every painful detail of the day, then crash from sheer exhaustion, then wake up with my mind racing an hour later. Eventually it was daylight and I headed back to see Cora. Jason picked up the kids from Grammie and Papa's where they'd been since Wednesday (surgery day) and they all went to an outdoor festival and played.

I spent most of today examining every little inch of Cora's baby body, thanking god or whatever generous power out there allowed us to keep her for another day.

Mostly I just leaned over her bed with my elbows on it, holding one of her hands in mine, and with my other, holding her little foot against my face. It felt good to keep a firm grasp on her today.

She's been very stable on the ventilator. She still has a mild fever and her white cell count is very high, but it's lower than it was yesterday before they started her on a second and very monster antibiotic. Most of her labs looked good for the majority of the day and she is saturating her oxygen reasonably well. She received a blood transfusion -- her third in the last 5 days. She's a little vampire.

This afternoon Jay brought the kids to the hospital for a brief visit and so we could do a parental switch. As usual they were both so sweet with her. The first thing Dominic said, despite the ventilator and all the new lines and tubes, was, "mommy, she looks so cute!"

After a short while I took the kids to meet our friends for dinner and some general caroming around in the warm, non-San Francisco air. I was conscious of looking at their perfect little beings with the same admiration and gratitude I have toward Cora. Cosie ran about three thousand laps around the courtyard, each time saying to my friend and me, "watch this!," never tiring of the pure excitement of the wind in her face and her newfound freedom. She is, to me, the epitome of being in the moment and living the truth that wherever you are, it's enough.

Watching Cosie run reminded me of a line from a book someone gave me when I was pregnant with her:

"Sometimes, when you sleep, I watch you dream, and I dream too...that someday you will run so fast and so far your heart will feel like fire."

I pray with all my heart that one day Cora will have that same opportunity. And that on that day, when she comes gleefully running toward my open arms, I will remember the sheer miracle of it all.