...Continued

I’m at that point where there aren’t any more tears.

You know the place where your eyes are so dry that blinking feels like razorblades – well I’m there.

I’ve shed so many tears over the last two days I’m probably half dehydrated.

A few hours after speaking to my mother-in-law Rick calls again.

“I’ve spoken to my Warrant, we’re working on getting me home,” he tells me.

My only response is to cry. Silence on the other end.

“Please don’t cry, Baby.”

And all I can do is sob. I’m so tired. I’m so scared. I’m so anything and everything all rolled into one that I’m a basket case.

He tells me later that this is only the second time in his life that he’s heard me cry on the phone. I’ve known him since I was twelve.

I knew I shouldn’t. I know that I shouldn’t. But I couldn’t resist. We do live in the information age, after all. And seriously, when has anyone ever known me not to stuff like this?

I find myself sitting in front of the computer Googling images of babies born at 23 weeks. I read their survival stories. There aren’t many. It upsets me further.

Dad calls again. I do marginally better explaining the situation to him the second time around.

“Maybe I should come,” he drawls.

I love my father. He’s the only parent I have left. But he’s seventy-eight years old and I don’t think his presence would be particularly soothing. Besides he doesn’t have his passport yet so for the time being I tell him to wait.

“What can I get you?” He asks.

There’s only one thing I really want – and I can’t have it. But I voice it anyways.

“My Mom,” I say and there’s a silence between us broken only by my sobbing breaths.

“I wish I could get her for you, Honey,” he says. And I can hear his voice break too.

Sometimes I forget while I’m busy taking care of my babies, that I’m his baby. He’s got to be scared for us as well.

“Say a prayer, Dad.” I finally manage to squeak out. “I don’t think he listens to me any more.”

A few words more and he’s gone. I’ve forgotten to tell him that Rick is trying to get home. I’ve forgotten to tell him that Jean and Levi are coming. I’ve left my 78-year-old father with no good news and for the life of me I don’t have the strength to call him back.

Day 214 Continued…