We're home, grateful, exhausted. We knew it wasn't a major surgery, but the hospital is no longer a place of wellness for us.

Once again trying to sleep despite several neonatal emergency alarms, knowing that two floors above someone else's nightmare has come true. Fighting the 2 AM urge to wander the empty halls in my sweats, press UP on the elevator, go to room 702, hold her hand.

I will my spirit to do so, curled up in the dark.

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Thank you for thinking of us, for your energy and goodness. Ben is just fine. A bit off, but fine.

We walked out into the crisp sunshine away from sick children and mournful parents. Once again the lingering need to pray, or wish, or send love to those who remain inside those walls. Semantics.

We are so, so blessed.