My first trip to the NICU was incredibly emotional. I guess that’s pretty obvious since it inspired the name of this blog. I experienced every single emotion at a very primal level throughout my seven weeks in the NICU. But if I’m honest about my emotions during that time, the strongest, most persistent emotion was fear. Not in fear for Henry’s health, but rather fearing that this week won’t be his last week in the NICU. I wanted nothing more than to take my baby home, and I feared that day would never come.

I’m not going to let that happen again. I’ve lived over two years with Henry since he was discharged Nov 4, 2012. I know now that my NICU scars are much deeper than his. I know that seven weeks is a flash in the pan relative to the joy that he has brought me since. I listened to Randy Scott’s talk about his daughter with down syndrome last year. I can’t pretend to understand the emotions that he experienced, but I will follow his example and write my own story.

Here’s my story: I’m back in the NICU and loving it.

I love the NICU because it has now given me not one, but two beautiful gifts: first Henry, now George. If it weren’t for the NICU, and all it’s insanity, I wouldn’t be a father, twice.

I love the NICU because Kangaroo Care is an amazing bond between me and my son. There’s something about the warm touch of his skin combined with the cold harshness of his life saving equipment that makes me really happy.

I love being back in the NICU because it’s given me the opportunity to reunite with all the people that helped my first son, Henry. If I stopped by the NICU last week. They wouldn’t let me or Henry in to even say hi to the nurses. Because George is here, we’re able to catch up with all the staff who played such an important role in Henry’s life. I’ve never been more proud of Henry than walking him through these halls as a NICU graduate.

I’m not going to be emotionless. I’m angry that George is on his third IV in three days. I’m sad that Kate was crashed into a c-section without warning. I’m fearful of all the things that could still go sideways in the NICU. But that’s not my story. My story is that I’m happy and grateful to hold George in my arms. I don’t need that to happen at home. It’s happening right here, right now, and I’m thankful for it.