"Now would be a good time to pray..."

When you've just suddenly given birth to a baby at 31 weeks, watched her whisked out of the room in seconds after being born and then not seen or heard ANYONE or ANYTHING else in your room for over an hour except the whirr of a helicopter landing on the roof of the hospital, those words are not the first words you want to hear.

You especially don't want to hear them from your husband, who tells you they were the first words he heard when he left the room to ask a nurse what was going on with our baby.

It's taken me a while to write this post. Every time I start to sit down and explain every thing that happened the night Olivia was born, I just feel so much anger and sadness at all the tiny mishaps along the way that added up to an extremely dangerous situation for our little baby. I don't know if I can write this coherently in any semblance of order, but I will try. What happened that day and the days that followed came so very quickly that we have had little time to talk to the people we love, our family and friends and neighbors, and tell them all that transpired. They happened so quickly that the experience seemed surreal and we were left spinning like toy tops on the sidewalk. I may not be able to write this all at one time. This post and the ones that follow are as much for us as it is for you.

"Now would be a good time to pray..."