Butter Baby

Today marks three weeks of life for little Penelope Ann. Three. Weeks. We can hardly believe it. It simultaneously feels like it’s been three days and three years. As 2020 taught us all, though, time is merely a construct. A necessary evil, giving and taking as it pleases.

At this point in time, however, we’re doing alright. This past weekend was a different story, and tomorrow may differ still, but today is good.

Penny’s been out of the womb for 21 days, which is 21 more than we thought we’d have with her. Every day we cautiously let down our guard a little more, ever wary, but growing more and more optimistic. As Penny’s current doctor said, “she’s defying textbooks.” A comforting, albeit slightly disconcerting thought.

To celebrate her third week on planet Earth, Penny decided to join the one pound club. She weighed in this morning at a whopping 465g, better known to us Yankees as 1lb 0.4oz. A huge milestone and another sigh of relief from her infinitely stressed parents. Jenny’s mom, Carolyn, dubbed her a “Butter Baby.” Our minds churned, and our pregnant pauses must have conveyed our confusion because she immediately clarified what she meant. Penny currently weighs as much as a pound of butter. Since we still can’t hold her, we could pop down to the grocery store, grab a pound of butter from the dairy section, and have a pretty good idea of how our baby might feel in our hands. Thus, Penny is presently a Butter Baby. An odd, yet comforting concept. I expect nothing less from my mother-in-law.

Tomorrow we meet with a new doctor. The doctors and nurses in the NICU rotate pretty frequently. Nurses come and go on days and nights, doctors seem to stick around for a few weeks at a time. There’s comfort in knowing the sheer number of minds and sets of hands lending their talents to our kiddo, but there’s also comfort in familiarity and routine. It feels like right as you get to know a nurse, a new one is there, spending the first 20 minutes of their shift catching up on your baby’s history and care plan. Within an hour or two, though, it’s like they’ve known them for a lifetime. They spend the next 12 hours caring for your little one as if they were their own. The credit they’re due is immeasurable. The work they do, paramount. Keeping your hope alive in 12 hour shifts.

We’ve noticed the doctors and nurses talking more in future tenses as of late. I think at the beginning, they all try not to speak in too finite of terms. Everything is so in flux those first few days, they just don’t know what each hour holds. Expectations are tempered. But at three weeks, and considering the challenges this micro miracle has already overcome, it’s starting to feel ok to think a day or two ahead. Baby steps become Butter Baby steps. Still one step at a time, but with a slightly larger stride.