Mom and I made time for the two of us on the eve of our departure from the hospital. We drove to the closest movie theater to see Inside Out. As simple of a date night as it was, it really couldn’t have been more perfect evening.
Joy and Sadness were both there with us throughout our last day.
We were certainly excited to finally head home. But, we also had to say goodbye to fellow NICU parents that had become great friends and nurses that were now like family.
Mom gave Kinley’s neonatologist a big hug and cried when he left.
When I went to fetch our car, I cried while I rode the garage elevator. I don’t know what it was. I suppose relief.
It was an amazing feeling to pull Kinley’s monitor leads off for the last time. After we had strapped her into her car seat, I watched her sleep and waited for Transport. I heard a warning alarm chime and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. No. It was another room.
As we made our way across the lobby downstairs, I looked around for any familiar faces. Someone to wave to. I looked forward and saw the approaching daylight. We walked through the waterfall entryway and Kinley was breathing fresh air for the first time.
As we headed for the toll road, I played Glad You Came, the song that always played after Solar Bears games when it was time to leave. We listened to the Inside Out soundtrack the rest of the way home.
I was advised by a past NICU parent that when we stepped out of the hospital, we should take in the moment. We moved so quickly from exit to car that we missed that opportunity. It wasn’t until we were home, sitting on the couch, with Kinley in my arms, that I think my moment came.
It was nice to be home, for sure. It was peaceful. The couch was comfortable. But, really, I didn’t feel as different as I thought I might. There was an overriding constant between the hospital and home. We were together.