Amour [h.s]

☼ fifty ☼

"And all I can taste is this moment, and all I can breathe is your life"

☼ ☼ ☼

Harry

I've had a lot of incredible moments in my life. But nothing equates to this.

Selling out Wembley. Meeting the queen. Performing at coachella. Breaking records. Winning a Grammy.

None of that compares to this.

Not even my children's birth compares to this. Because that was traumatic and scary.

But this? This is the moment.

After twenty nine days stuck in the NICU. Today we were finally going home.

Bodhi was coming home.

His doctor had told us yesterday that he'd be discharged this morning, Amelie and I both cried at the news. Tears of pure happiness.

In the four weeks we've been here, we've seen countless families come and go, getting to watch them walk out of the NICU with their babies and the biggest smiles on their faces. Every day we prayed it would be us.

We waited so patiently for our turn. And today it was finally happening.

We were finally going to be able to load our little boy up in a car seat and take him outside of those dreaded NICU doors.

He could finally come home with us.

Amelie was ecstatic at first, but then it suddenly daunted on her that we would be a few miles away from any medical personnel. We'd be alone with our tiny baby who still needs a lot of help. And anything could go wrong.

She had started to slip this morning, driving herself into a panic attack when she started to worry about every little thing that could go wrong. She was on a heap in the floor, struggling for her own breath, her mind causing chaos.

Luckily I had been able to pull her out of it, coaxing her around and convincing her that he would be just fine. They wouldn't let him out if he wasn't healthy and ready.

He's still not completely healthy, but that's something to be worked on. He still needed oxygen when he slept and he still had his feeding tube in, both of which, we had been trained on using.

We had also been trained on what to do if something went wrong. If he stopped breathing, or if he became unresponsive, we had been taught everything from dealing with a seizure to stopping him from choking. And I think that's where Amelie's anxieties stemmed from.

Now she knows it's a risk, she's terrified.

She's tried to tell the doctors that he isn't ready, she's tried to tell them that he's still too small and he's too ill to come home. But they stand their ground and rightly so.