As I pulled the wagon by the PICU doors, I recalled the many times I ran out of those doors in tears, scared, angry, sad. The many times Tyler and I walked in through those doors after her many procedures, anxious, nervous, sick to our stomachs.
I made my way through the hallway a few steps and memories of that first day - those first moments came flashing back... I looked to the window and remembered my social worker allowing me to 'stand right there' so I could catch a brief glimpse of my baby girl as she was being urgently wheeled through the hallway, surrounded by the trauma team... I had no idea what was happening - why was my baby not breathing on her own? Why was she unconscious? What were we doing here? What happened?
We passed by the radiology room (aka CT scan room) and I recalled all of Emma's numerous 'emergency' scans - Ty and I would always follow Emma's gurney to the doors and wait right outside, praying for good results, crying, fearful for the news to come...
Emma and I made our way back to our current room in Rehab, and walked by the NICU waiting room, where I would escape to at night for a few minutes of solitude. I remember hugging that young new mother who was crying for her 4 day old baby. That hug actually made me turn a new leaf in my faith. I felt like maybe I should give Him a shot. I did. It worked. He listened. He still listens.
Ending our wagon ride, we walked through the door to our room and I recalled the wonderful, amazing doctors, nurses, social workers, and therapists that we met along the way. I thought of all of you, many who we don't even know in person, who have reached out to us to offer your prayers and positive thoughts, inspiring stories, and words of courage and sympathy. There are good people out there.
I looked around the room and breathed a sigh of relief as I looked at my baby girl ... this is our last night here. Now that's sweet.
Sophie and Tyler