These are the days I hate…

It’s 11pm, and poor Marshall still isn’t home.  The kids went to bed without seeing Daddy.  There were several things I’d hoped he could help me with once he got home.  I’m sure Marshall would have liked to have some dinner by now, too.

But it’s not those things that hit me the hardest on a day like today.  He’s late because someone has a sick baby.  They came in for what should have been a “regular” delivery.  But once the baby was born, (s)he ended up not doing so well.  Marshall did what he could to stabilize the baby and then called for transport to a near-by NICU

I hate these kinds of days(and nights) because although I know my husband is a very capable pediatrician, there is only so much medicine can do. 

And I hate these kinds of days because this family should be celebrating the birth of a baby, and are instead probably scared shitless about what lies ahead. 

I hate these kinds of days because it reminds me that even when everything looks “normal”, there’s always a chance for a trainwreck.  There’s always the chance that something could go wrong. 

But these kinds of days also remind me that I shouldn’t complain about the minor things that went wrong today; I should celebrate all the things that went right.

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