31 weeks, 3 days

I'm still in the hospital.  And as of this moment, there's no light at the end of the tunnel.  I'm here until either contractions and leaking stop, or Elliana is born.  Every time I make a comment about 'if I'm still here in a couple days', the nurses look at me like, 'Really?'  They all seem to believe I'm here for the long haul.  Yippee.  I miss home - my husband and kids - and sleeping in my own bed.  But I think I've finally come to accept that this really is best for Elliana.  And me.  We don't want to increase the risk of infection to either of us, and the best place for them to keep a close eye on both of us is here.  And the best place to watch for the onset of pre-term labor is here.  So... here we are.

The nurses - there are a couple who are quickly becoming like friends.  Some have walked into my room, asked me how I'm doing, and when I burst into tears, they sit down beside me and get all teary-eyed with me.  Even one of the midwives who makes regular rounds for the doctors has been openly moved in talking with us about having as much time with Elliana as we possibly can.  A couple of the nurses just try to make me laugh.  And one even brought me my favorite Starbucks drink this morning. 

I have a distinct memory from September 17, 2009.  It was the day our twins were delivered at 12 weeks gestation.  I was so angry with God - couldn't speak to Him, couldn't even acknowledge Him.  But I knew that I was safe - I knew that my salvation didn't depend on how much I was trusting my Savior at that moment.  I knew that His grace was enough when I couldn't speak to Him.

But there came a point in the hospital that day that Jason could not be with me - they wouldn't allow him into the surgery prep area.  I panicked - I couldn't bear the thought of being alone right before this awful surgery.  I couldn't stop crying.  I still knew that I was safe - that Jesus had me, but that wasn't what I wanted.  I didn't care about being safe.  I didn't want to be alone.  I wanted - needed - Jason to be with me, and he couldn't.  I was alone.  And I was so angry with God that I couldn't ask for or acknowledge His presence.

But...

The last thing I remember before that surgery is this:  one nurse putting meds into my IV, one nurse holding my hand, and one nurse wiping my tears. 

I couldn't see it at the time - not for days.  But those nurses were Jesus to me at that moment.  Even when I couldn't ask for His help, He still came. 

There's a part of me that does not want to admit this, but I know... even though I haven't asked... He's been here the past few days.  He does hurt with me.  He is sovereign over all of this.  I just can't see how right now.

Enough with the deep thinking.  For tonight anyway.

They won't give you a glass of wine in the hospital, but they will give you benedryl.  Yay for sleep.  :-)