Where did the day go?

Once again, I am derelict in my blogging duties. I've already received two backchannel emails asking if everything is okay, and neither was from my mom. Sorry if I worried anyone, but yesterday was pretty uneventful as far as Frankie is concerned. Anna, Joann and I went up to the NICU around noon and sat by his side until 5, when they kicked us out. I've become more accustomed to the tangle of transparent tubes and monofilament-thin sensor wires that criss-cross Frankie's body. I'm inured to the cacaphony of buzzing, whirring, beeping machines. Each of the half-dozen babies in this single-room branch of the NICU is hooked up to some combination of heart and lung monitor, ventilator, IV and catheter pumps, and other unidentifiable medical devices, all of which produce a unique amalgam of sounds without regard for harmony or melody. Even this discordant symphony has faded to thin, white noise; background sounds drowned out by my concern for Frankie and his mom. Anna is still getting used to the sight of her son under heavy sedation and constant mechanical surveillance, but by the time we left, she was in better spirits than I've seen in a while. She was even up for a well-earned Mexican martini at Curra's, her first since finding out about the pregnancy (and yes, we threw away the tiny bit of milk she expressed afterwards). We've still got a long way to go, and there are still moments of doubt and anger, but we both know everything will be alright in the end, and that certainty helps.