Patience

I wish I could say that starting this blog has made things easier.  It was much harder to sit myself down and write again.  I found this beautiful song -Nuvole Bianche- from a true and wonderful friend that seems to be able to inspire me constantly.  Music was one of the things that Breanna loved.  You could see the spark light up in her dark brown eyes that Rex lovingly called 'doe' eyes.  Her eyes told you everything.  The nurses would constantly comment on how they hated doing painful procedures on her.  They could see from her eyes that she 'knew' what was going on.  We never got to hear her voice, but I'm sure it would have been quite demanding and soft all at the same time.  Sometimes I'll hear a little infant girl cry or just babble and wonder why?  I know all the wonderful people out there will have great answers to that question which I assure you I already know.  It still doesn't change my mother instincts to just want her here in my arms again.  Patience. . .

Today is a new day!

I made it through the day yesterday. Every year I dread October 3rd, hoping that it would just miraculously skip over to Oct 4th and I would be able to avoid the flood of memories and awful feelings from that day 7 years ago. I decided it was finally time to start writing down my memories and thoughts that have been pushed into a safe place in my heart.

October 27th, 2003, Breanna Kaci Lindquist was born at 29 weeks. She was a miracle right from the start, no doubt about it, Heavenly Father had his hand in every second of her tiny life. She was born at Summerlin Hospital which at the time did not have a level 3 NICU. The hospital was in the process of opening one and the level 3 NICU doctors were there when she was born. This was a blessing because they were able to stabilize her and get her ready for transport to Sunrise Hospital. I didn't even get to see her when Dr. Swainston performed a cesarean and quickly handed an eerily silent tiny infant to the doctors standing by. Rex sat by me, holding my hand and trying to reassure me that everything was going to be alright. Those were my first moments with my daughter.