The day of London’s discharge from the NICU I brought the Nikon to take some higher res photos of her room and its surroundings. Although we never wanted a baby in the NICU, it did become a home for us after three and a half months. I suppose anywhere your baby has to stay will inevitably feel like a second home. I wanted to capture even the mundane things of the room, like the chairs we sat in everyday, or the closet doors displaying her footprints and growth progress. So, some of these shots will just not have much appeal to you, but I thought I would share them anyway because they mean so much to our little family.
London resting in her NICU bed. For her, the day was not so monumental as it was for us. She had no idea what was in store. We did, and we could hardly contain our excitement and nervousness.
This is one of those pictures that is more for our benefit than for yours. I wanted to capture what I saw from this side of the bed, where I actually rarely stood. I stood on the other side all the time. But at least from this angle you get a feel for what was in the rest of the room and the amazing windows we had in the room.
The closet in London’s room with several footprints, a growth chart, a physical therapy schedule, a note from Kate, and the top of a bag holding London’s dirty clothes. Again, just trying to capture it like it was before all this stuff came home with us.
The million-dollar view. It doesn’t look like it, but it’s the only window this size in any of the NICU’s pods. We scored in a major way.
I took all the stickers we had placed on things around the room and put them on the iPad. The outcast Leprechaun was a treat from our Irish primary nurse. When he was on the lamp for months, I had placed a Union Jack flag in his hand. Eileen was not amused.
Dear Megan, London’s primary, on the last day she was responsible for taking care of London.
Spent a lot of days in both of those chairs, usually with coffee on the side table and always with my Timbuk2 bag filled with magazines or books to read when, or if, I could get some time to do so.
Megan and Kate going over some paperwork before we finish packing the room up and carry London out of there once and for all. There’s no way to explain just how nervous you feel about taking your daughter home from the hospital after she has been there for almost four months. You absolutely need to get everything right and you also need to know again and again what exactly needs to be done if there is a problem with something once you are home. In less than an hour there is not going to be a team of nurses and doctors on the other side of the curtain able to answer your every question.
Moments after all three of us stepped outside the hospital, 109 days after we frantically arrived, thinking we’d spend just a few hours there.
Home. The adventure begins anew.