He's giving hugs too. =)
"I love you, a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck..."
So today was day four of politely fighting with the nurses about food...again. They insisted I needed to give him THEIR formula. My boss at the baby home gave me directions to under no circumstances switch his formula. They claimed they had the same kind, but it smelled different. Besides, they brought it at 9, 12, 3, and 6. As a sick preemie, he's just not on that kind of a schedule, doesn't eat massive amounts at one time, and shouldn't have to wait for me to go request that something be specially made. Especially if it's the wrong thing to begin with. They also reprimanded me for mixing 100ml instead of 95ml. For my American friends, that's about a teaspoon difference...if that much. *Sigh* I'm pretty sure I offended numerous people in my vicinity. The comments I got were something like this..."You are in the hospital now. What you are doing is wrong. You HAVE to do what they tell you. They are in charge now."
Upon which I would smile politely (hoping God would give me patience...) and say, "I'm sorry, I *have* to do what my boss says."
"But the hospital is in charge now."
No they are not. (Sense my inner rebel coming out? I knew that stubbornness had to be good for something.)
I feel a little like the parent who is fighting the doctor on vaccination convictions...or something. I'm happy to report I finally won this battle...for now anyways. Grouchy Nurse went and talked to the dietician, and came back and reported that I could feed him what I wanted. Good, because it was going to happen regardless....
(Someone needs to pray for grace for me! Before I go in tomorrow! And maybe a good attitude too, towards the nurses. I think you can all tell I'm really having a hard time with that.)
I'm still not sure they like me. I also offended people by packing a lunch and politely turning down hospital food. It was all in TV dinner form, lest anyone think the cook slaved for hours over it for me personally...Oh well. I guess my ultimate goal isn't to be "liked." Sometimes I sure wish it was...I like being liked. Or more specifically, not being *dis*liked.
My reward for all this unpleasantness?
Lots of baby snuggles...
Hopefully tomorrow is the last day. I love being able to be there for him, because I keep thinking of my sweet niece Sarah. She was almost certainly alone in the hospital when she had her numerous surgeries while living in the orphanage known as "The Bad Place" (for good reason). I don't want any other child to have to go through a hospital stay alone. =( Nonetheless, I want him home where he belongs! I'm also running out of food to pack for lunch...
So, now that I've caught you up to date on what's been happening at the hospital, some observations on what I've been reading...I've had a lot of time for reading.
I read Adopted for Life yesterday, holding Small at the hospital. It provoked a lot of thoughts, and one in particular stood out to me, although it wasn't really the main point of the book. I used to be against the idea of racism, theoretically. I wouldn't make snide remarks or anything like that, and I've certainly known and loved friends from other cultures. But now it runs deeper overall, in the way it would if someone said something nasty about my Roma nieces. I haven't seen much discrimination yet (I'm fairly sheltered here) but oh, I have heard stories. And now, far from being an abstract idea that was wrong, it's something that hurts ME because these are people, people from my church who are from many different races and all look different. They are not just acquaintances or friends but FAMILY. And it's not just "oh, you are my brother or sister in Christ" like so many of us rattle off glibly in our church services. No, my Christian friends from around the world are my REAL family. I've been adopted as Christ's daughter. That makes me really, really his child. And that makes my church family my REAL family, just like a child who is adopted has REAL parents and REAL brothers and sisters. I know that may hit home for my friends in the adoption community who are so tired of hearing "Are they real siblings?" or "What about his real mother?"...that's why I draw the analogy, inspired by the book. My church back home is my family (I MISS YOU GUYS SO MUCH!!!) and my church here is my family. If one part hurts, the rest of the body hurts with it.
This doesn't mean we have the inability to laugh with (or ok...maybe sometimes at!) each other! Like the crazy white girl trying to tie a baby on her back...or when someone says "curtains" and I think they said "kittens!" No, the reality is that sometimes intercultural mingling IS JUST PLAIN FUNNY. However, none of it is the kind of poking fun at someone that belittles them.
This also doesn't mean we don't ever annoy each other with our differences. Or that we don't ever hurt each other. Or gross each other out. Or inadvertently offend each other. Hm, last time I checked we were all sinners in need of a Savior...DAILY. Last time I checked we were also family. I don't know about you, but family are probably the ones who offend me, annoy me, and gross me out the most...just due to sheer proximity and time spent together! They're also the ones with whom it's most important to mend our differences. They're the ones to whom you say "I'm sorry" and "Please forgive me" and you're kind of stuck with them. Just like I'm kind of stuck with my family in Christ for eternity. I wouldn't change that for the world. =)
Happy news! Sunshine went home with her forever mama last week. I'm going to miss this girl! So glad she finally has someone to answer when she cries "MAMA!" in the middle of the night.
Oh, I do love her.
Once she left, we didn't have an open spot for long! This new little blessing came yesterday.
Isn't she the cutest thing ever? I'm nicknaming her "Owlie." I thought I would do it as a preemptive strike against the sleepless nights to come. Things tend to go by contraries - I nicknamed Sunshine, "Sunshine" and soon afterwards cloudy weather rolled in for a while, complete with lots of teary tempests. However, last time I checked, Owlie was indeed living up to her name. Ah well, she's only six days old...what can you expect? (A miracle might be nice.) It's a good thing she's cute. ;)
Megan is the Official Comedy Supplier for my blog, and again, she has not disappointed us. She can't leave. Ever. Or else this blog wouldn't be funny anymore, and people would stop reading it.
Me: Iron socks? You South Africans go WAY overboard on ironing. You are CRAZY. Seriously. Ironing socks. (Did I mention something about laughing at each other?)
Megan: But they're so nice! Have you ever put on a pair of freshly ironed socks? *sigh* They feel like...happiness.
Megan: Are you writing about how awesome I am?
So, as a reminder: Pray that Small gets to go home tomorrow! The earlier in the day, the better...although, tomorrow at all would be nice!