Reality

It still doesn't feel totally real. Every now and then, it hits me: Norah is finally home. Sometimes it comes while we are cuddling or when we're doing her medical cares. Most times, it comes when I see her drinking in life. She revels in things that other kids her age wouldn't give a single thought to: the feel of crisp crib sheets instead of waterproof pads, the texture of carpet, the way her car seat strap tickles her fingertips, the dancing shadows of a spinning ceiling fan... She spends most of her day smiling.

Sometimes, when Norah is sleeping sweetly, I just sit quietly in her presence. Regardless of our hardships, just having her here gives the house such a peaceful energy. 

I wish I could accurately paint a picture of what our life is like at home. We are constantly going up and down the stairs. Organization and routines are still works in progress. We give her treatments. We are her doctors, nurses, respiratory therapists, and transport drivers. We have to put her through scary and painful things with some of her medical care. But we can sing to her, and take the time to comfort her in a way that only we can. And most of all, we can finally be together all the time. No more tearful evening goodbyes. No more having to explain to Harper why we can't "keep" his sister. 

As I write this post, I sit quietly in her room. It's the same room that I shed countless tears with empty arms. She's napping so peacefully, and I could hardly ask for anything more. 

Harper and Norah, enjoying our new life at home