Bringing Harper home

Hospice almost seems too easy. They literally handle everything, with a kind smile and a bewildering efficiency. It is all set - on Monday we bring our baby home.

Our biggest question for the hospice folks who came to meet with us at the hospital was the impact on Shea. Fortunately, these folks do this for a living. Our conversation left us reassured that he would be OK, and at any time that he wasn't they would work with us, and with him, to make sure that his needs were taken care of.

I am now filled with a blend of excitement, sadness, terror, and jittery energy - so much to do, need to clean the house! set up the guest room for Harper! figure out the bassinet placement! buy diapers! pump more breastmilk! - I almost feel paralyzed.

Lou is worried about the tiredness of taking care of Harper full time at home. I pointed out that we would be experiencing the same exhaustion if we were bringing home the newborn we expected to have. But that leaves the unspoken ache that normal newborn tiredness has a happy ending that we cannot expect.

What scares me now?

That I feel giddily happy about Harper coming home, as if this was the maternity leave I dreamed about. As if there weren't going to be a steady stream of nurses and hospice volunteers coming to my house. As if my baby was going to be free of hoses and tubes. As if I wasn't bringing my little Harper bean home to die.

On the flip side, I find myself hyperventilating about her not dying. What if it's all wrong? What if Dr. Porter and the literature and the neonatologist and my gut instinct are all wrong? What if Harper survives, and we have done nothing to treat her disease? How long can we sit and wait for our daughter to succumb?

I am scared of being around other people's babies. Both now and later, after Harper is gone. Scared of the pain they will cause.

At the same time, I am incredibly anxious to have another baby. To give Shea and Harper another sibling. To restore pure joy to the concept of a baby. Too soon to think about now, but my mind is feeling like the mad monkey they always warn you about in yoga - and it's leaping ahead to the future with or without Harper, because handling the present just seems too damn hard.

The nervous energy is filling me, making me want to tear around the house, cleaning, preparing, researching how to walk around with a stroller and a baby with an oxygen tank. But that pent up energy is at war with the absolute exhaustion of the past two weeks.

Has it really only been two weeks? I feel like Lou and I have lived a lifetime in a fortnight.

The hospice folks, the hospital personnel, friends and family - all tell me I should get rest now. Since I feel ready to jump out of my skin, I'm feeling pretty confident it will be a fairly sleepless night.

Harper is coming home.