Roman

When you see someone you love go through hard times, it's heart wrenching. Soul crushing. I want to fix this in twenty ways so that you feel no pain. That's not real life, though. We know logically that hard times help mold resilient folks. We know logically that we can't appreciate the ups without the downs. It is in our very nature though to resist "negative" emotions, rather than to sit in them, allow them to be, and then allow them to fade, as they all eventually do. When my sister called last Thursday night barely able to talk through contractions and I recommended she go in to the hospital to be checked, I felt my first wave of no, no, no. At twenty eight weeks gestation, her little guy was certainly not ready to meet this world. But, he did. Her first cesarean section. He was flown to a hospital six hours away with a higher level neonatal intensive care unit while she was forced to remain behind for two days to allow her body to heal enough to fly herself down to where he was. I could immediately feel the hormone rush our bodies go through physically willing us to be with our babies. It's primal instinct. Do or die. She didn't get that option, though. I flew up late Friday night, just one baby in tow. I hadn't been back to Alaska in eight years; since this same sister had graduated high school. I walked into her hospital room and saw a shell of the vibrant, beautiful being I knew. Her body and soul literally and figuratively aching to be with her baby. All while navigating hospital discharge policies, social work mix ups for flights and lodging, and the inches long scar and wounded abdominal muscles that you don't realize how much you use until you can't. I just wanted to take it all away. All the pain and the hurt and the fear. I couldn't, though. Reality was what it was. So I did the next best thing. The thing we're all called to do as human beings supporting each other. I sat with her in the sadness. I helped her to take her first shower since becoming a mother for the third time, in a way that was completely foreign to all of us. I washed and conditioned her hair, helped her emotionally process how different her body felt and looked, and then helped her dress. She checked the monitor in the NICU countless times. We'd squeal a little with delight each time he made a familiar newborn jerking motion. "He's waving at you! He's ready to see his mama." We don't know exactly what the road ahead holds for him. Already the logistics of being where your baby needs you to be to grow and develop and needing to heal her own body and parent two more beautiful boys and needing to put food on the table in the midst of incredibly narrow maternity leave practices have risen to the surface and demanded to be dealt with. It may look and feel impossible. It's not though. One day at a time. This is where as community we are called to be strong and courageous and lovely towards one another. We are so incredibly blessed that many have asked what they can do to help and in response I've started a PayPal account to help with expenses, lost wages, meals away from home, and all the things that come with having a loved one in the hospital for an extended amount of time. It is projected that he will likely be in NICU until close to his due date, the middle of June. If you are interested in contributing, please email me at britni.means@gmail.com. We are so incredibly thankful for the outpouring of love, prayers, and support. It takes a village and we are so thankful to be part of an amazing one.

https://www.paypal.me/brandiandroman