Chapter 17 - ELISE COMES HOME FIRST
Elise reached four pounds on a rainy Tuesday morning.
Her infection had cleared.
She no longer required respiratory support.
She could maintain her body temperature and drink from a small bottle.
Dr. Pierce called me from Beacon Crest.
“Your daughter is ready for discharge.”
Joy and guilt collided inside me.
Noah remained at Whitmore Children’s Hospital.
I could not celebrate taking one child home while leaving the other behind.
My grandfather understood.
“We will bring Elise here,” he said.
“Can we do that?”
“The hospitals arranged a family transition room.”
He smiled.
“You will have both children under one roof, even if Noah remains in the NICU.”
Elise arrived that afternoon in a specialized transport vehicle.
Nurse Morales carried her into the room.
I had not seen her in eleven days.
She looked larger.
She looked stronger.
She looked perfect.
I held her against my chest while standing outside Noah’s incubator.
His eyes remained closed.
Elise made a soft sound.
Noah’s fingers moved.
The nurses smiled.
“They remember each other,” Nurse Morales said.
I touched the glass.
“Your sister came to find you.”
My grandfather had prepared the townhouse across from the rehabilitation center.
He installed a nursery on the ground floor.
The walls were warm white.
Two wooden cribs stood side by side.
The restored rocking chair sat near the window.
My mother’s pearl pendant was secured inside a small velvet box on the dresser.
Nothing from Grant remained.
Elise and I spent our first night there with a neonatal nurse in the next room.
I woke every twenty minutes to check whether she was breathing.
Each time, she was.
Each breath felt like a miracle.
The following morning, I returned to Noah.
Dr. Reed showed me the newest scan.
“The air leak has healed.”
“Can he come off the ventilator?”
“We will try today.”
I held Elise beside the incubator while the team reduced Noah’s support.
He struggled at first.
Then his breathing settled.
One minute passed.
Then five.
Then twenty.
Dr. Reed looked at me.
“He is doing it.”
Tears blurred my vision.
Noah was breathing with minimal assistance.
My daughter slept against my heart.
My son fought inside the incubator.
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For the first time, home no longer felt like a place Grant had taken from me.
Home was wherever my children were still fighting their way toward me.
