Most, if not all, of you know that Juniper now lives with us. We had been calling her room in the NICU her apartment. Now she has a new apartment, complete with a dog, two kitties, two parents, beautiful flowering plants, a stunning view of the mountains (who now have their snow caps) and most importantly, Papa Joe. She came home with a g tube for feeding directly to her stomach, a bunch of oxygen equipment, a suction machine for her secretions and the heart and oxygen monitor. It's difficult and cumbersome to get around, but we're finding ways. I took her to see her bedroom today that we and my sisters worked so hard on. She looked around at the colors, the big flowers on the wall, the two giant window with the view of the mountains. Someday, Juniper, someday you will live there. For now, it's the living room nursery we've set up. 

The first few days when we were here on our own were totally bananas. The house fell into complete disarray, I was running all the time (I walked over 3 miles one day, just in the house), Michael and I began to feel distance between us. We had to feed her every three hours, waking up halfway through to turn off the food pump, so we were literally waking up every hour and a half, around the clock. It felt impossible. It was impossible. People would cheekily say, "welcome to parenthood." But this isn't just parenthood; this is parenthood plus nursing plus housekeeping. Fortunately Papa Joe showed up just in time to dry my tears and lighten our spirits. And Juniper thinks he hung the moon. He very well may have. He keeps up just as much as Michael and me. He's always got open hands for this little miracle and an encouraging word when I feel overwhelmed. He saved us in a way. In many ways. 

Colorado has a program for special needs parents to get a nursing certificate. It comes with a nice little salary, so it was a no-brainer to enroll. Add student to these new roles I have to play. Maybe if I work hard enough, I'll be so overwhelmed that it all becomes second nature. Maybe it will make things less stressful and overwhelming. 

Juniper also came home with a giant team of therapists and specialists. We have a physical therapist, an occupational therapist, a speech therapist, and a feeding specialist. We have a dry supplies vendor and a vendor for the oxygen tanks and concentrator. Most of our furniture and equipment (stroller, etc.) have been modified to help her be more mobile and leave the house for doctor visits. Oh, for doctors we have a stroke and thrombosis neurologist, audiologist, special care pediatrician, doctors in the HIE clinic... I feel like I'm missing someone. Juniper and I have a joint therapist who works with attachment therapy, which I don't entirely understand but she seems great. Then I have my psychiatrist, doctor, dermatologist, dentist (grind my teeth smooth and flat in my sleep). It's a damn circus. 

Since we're home now, this will be the last entry in this journey journal. We're talking about making a proper blog to help those who are interested keep up with Juniper's progress and the life of a bipolar mother. That said, I'd like to "reveal" a secret... all the titles of the entries I've posted have been lines from my favorite band, Against Me!, who have gotten me through this, much like they've gotten me through so many other hard times in life. From the beginning of this debacle, Michael and I would spend hours in the car, simultaneously crying and screaming painful lyrics, searching for a former clarity. That said, let this be the end/let this be the last song/let this be the end/let all be forgiven.

Thanks for reading. 

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2lFPuyENgcwsLmUYHlfA4z