So far, so good...

Clare got through the night with normal, healthy products in her diapers and we were thrilled to find her awake, and without a gavage tube, when we arrived this morning.  She took to her bottle right away and sucked down the now 9 ml without falling asleep or needing to be reminded.

Sometimes all this obsession with these little developmental steps strikes me as absurd.  Had she been a term baby, these would've been givens and certainly nothing to blog about (or it would be a blog no one would bother reading).  Then I remember how she's still supposed to be in the womb, not using her lungs, not digesting anything, learning to suck on her fingers, and padding herself up with baby fat for delivery.  Yesterday she was 34 weeks' gestation--there's still 6 weeks till she's "due."  Then I remember that each little developmental milestone is a step closer to coming home and beginning our family...a step closer to normalcy, to a time when what we find in a diaper or how much she eats isn't newsworthy to anyone.  

This is such a strange, living-in-the-moment existence.  Tim and I mark time now according to her feeding and care schedule, not according to hours;  of course, we haven't worn our watches in weeks because we can't in the hospital, where we're scrubbing down constantly.  I think vaguely about work, and about how today is a half day and this afternoon will be the end of the year staff luncheon, and if I concentrate I can figure out what period it is right now and picture what I'd be doing if I were there.  I'm sad that I missed out on the end of the year, for many reasons.  For one, I wasn't part of all the end-of-the-year banquets and celebrations that are exhausting and keep us away from home many nights the last weeks of the year...but it's those many night events that make the end of the year feel that much more like a major accomplishment.  I'm sad I missed seeing the seniors go, and I'm sad I missed that wonderful feeling around campus when the seniors leave, and just the sophomore and junior classes are left, and it feels like a real small school where everyone knows everyone else.  I'm sad I missed the giddy interaction with colleagues, fueled by our anticipation of summer and a break from the students and parents and crises.  I'm sad I will not have earned that period of "emotional detox" that we educators feel for the first couple weeks of summer, as we process all the small failures of the year and fail to give ourselves credit for the many things we did accomplish.  I'm sad I missed three and a half weeks of lunches with Mark, Brian, Sterba, and Sutich (and Lisa too), and I'm sad Clare didn't get three and a half more weeks to listen to us all laugh together every day.  I'm sad that I missed three and a half weeks working with Alberta.  I'm not sad that I missed out on the last attendance appeals.

I know that work right now is a lot like an alternative universe, or maybe Bizarro World.  What a very strange existence this all is.