Saturday, February 26, 2011

Home is where the heart is.

Not. Anyone who says that is a liar. Or they have never been away for an extended period of time. Because after 12 looooong weeks I can say that home is most definitely home. It doesn't matter where your heart is. YOUR house. YOUR bed. YOUR food. YOUR things. Those can't be replaced. Even with my family 'together' here, all I want is home.

I'm tired of my son being passed around like a volleyball at the hospital. He's been moved back to the NICU again. And quite abruptly too - I guess the PICU was done with him. I'm tired of the $40 every 10 days just so I can park to see my son. I'm tired of everyone saying that our opinion matters when it clearly doesn't. I'm tired of feeling torn between my kids at 'home' and the one at the hospital.

I click my heels together all the time but to no avail. Dorothy was so lucky.  


1 comment:

  1. My heart breaks for you, Amanda.

    I love you! Praying for Rambo to start making some speedy progress so you all can come home.

    I can't believe its been 12 weeks... long, hard weeks! wow. You will soon be joining me in no longer counting weeks for his age but months... :) Praise God that Rambo is almost 3 MONTHS! What a beautiful thing :)

    Praying you can soon start counting his age in the comfort of your own home. You all are loved and missed!