This weekend I started to type a detailed post regarding Cora and my time in the hospital. The more I typed the more I realized I was only putting words on the screen. These words couldn’t capture the dept of emotion that characterized those days, trying to write them is a task I cannot undertake.
A friend delivered dinner tonight and saw Cora for the first time out of the NICU. He told us never to forget where she came from, how God healed her and me, and sustained us through that time.
He was right. I want to remember those first days, but not the details. I want to remember all the people who prayed for her, all the nurses who cared for her, all the doctors that made decisions about her care. I am thankful for everyone who touched our lives during our short time at the hospital.
I am thankful that Cora only needed “a little help.” As I sat with her in the NICU I was surrounded by babies much sicker than her. I wondered if anyone was praying for them, I wondered if they would ever go home.
Even though those days were overwhelming and I shed a lot of tears, I was more overwhelmed at the outpouring of kindness and support I received, from the lady who cleaned my hospital room, to a former pastor, to people I have never met.
As I type, Cora lays beside me, looking around the room, her tiny hands grasping for things unseen. She will never remember her traumatic beginnings and for that I am thankful. But I will never let her forget where she came from and who sustained her.
So there will not be a detailed part two, the memories of details have already begun to fade.
Her story is just beginning….
