Tuesday night, we are sitting here at Ronald McDonald House in a land of snow. Between our beds is a RMDH pack and play, and in it is a very full and sleepy Flynn.
I'm not sure what miracle put him in our hands. There was some debate on whether they wanted to let him go. But in the end they looked at the total growth curve, not the weight changes just after surgery, and decided it would be ok.
We walked out of the NICU, and we had our son, and our daughter, and all of Flynn's little things, and it is as if it was always meant to be. I do not know what to think, except that tomorrow is another day, and every day after that will be another day.
The journey is not over. It is never over. It has just begun. But it could have been so much shorter, and so much worse. We are truly fortunate. We are truly lucky. We are truly blessed.
I can reach out and touch him. And we are going home.
Waiting no longer. He is with us.