Time Comes, Time Goes

Four months.

Wednesday marked a pair of ginormous milestones:  one is Caeli’s predicted due date from the OB/GYN, and four months since Chastity and I began our roller coaster ride in the NICU. Though the uncertainties and stresses of becoming new parents to our preemie girl have been life-altering to say the least, one lesson we’ve both picked up is that time comes as surely as it goes. It waits for no man even as we count the days (126 at this posting – Caeli is 116 days old) of shuttling to UAMS and Children’s Hospital from the house to our jobs before she gets to come home. Time has lessened some burdens yet it has magnified other concerns. Most of the babies born during the wee hours of February 13 have gone home, so why is Caeli still here in the NICU?

Mommy loves me!

Where has the time gone?

If you’ve read the past fifteen posts from the Dad Chronicles, then you’ve seen the gamut of emotions – and why I’ve taken breaks from blogging about it. Unfortunately, writing is not a full-time career yet, so I must keep my nightly grind and improve my craft until I get a call to the big leagues of literature. That could be today, tomorrow, in five years, or the day after never – I don’t know, I’m just putting thoughts to paper and mentally visualizing the rest.

Story time

Where has the time gone?

On our knees praying to God for a full recovery and that we do not have an epic breakdown that would require an extended hospital stay. Caeli needs healthy parents to keep up with her as well as love her, so rest enters the equation. Some nights have been spent preparing her bedroom, while there were others which sleep ruled the night.

Of course, not all changes pertaining to time have been positive. For example, both of us have experienced a distancing of some friends – and relatives – throughout the journey. Apparently they didn’t get the memo that our daughter is our primary concern and neither of us can jump into a car and point it at Interstate 30 whenever we feel like it anymore. In other words, I won’t fool with you because you’re not cool with me. Even if I were able to spread myself thin by a band of takers, why should I?

I have died, but Christ lives in me. And I now live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave his life for me. Galatians 2:20

— A. Cedric Armstrong (@cedteaches) June 6, 2015

In the same vein Rineco plays a large role in how I spend my days off, Chastity and Caeli are drivers in those other hours of the week. I guess it’s all a byproduct of trading the slab soldier moniker for family man – and another reason why I am appreciative of play time, which I define as that period of life between graduating from college to the moment you settle down. In my case, play time lasted for several years:  travelling, partying, and at times, working a second job to fund said adventures. That way, I wouldn’t feel robbed of life. Children (and hopefully I’ll be here for them, grandchildren) will enjoy my regaling them with tales of wild weeks in Vegas and New York; game days at War Memorial and Fenway; going muddin’ and duck hunting; numerous festivals; and so forth. No one wants to hear about punching the clock daily and the bitter feelings from working all the way through life without fun moments.

Time comes and time goes.

The past four months are part of the dash called life that is often a placeholder and not an indicator of how life is lived. We’ve definitely become more grateful of time and hours we can control as Caeli continues to show true grit surviving and thriving in the NICU. One hundred sixteen days in the hospital is tough on anyone, especially new parents anxiously awaiting the day to bring that precious bundle of joy home. In God’s time, she will be in Springhill Manor running, jumping on trampolines, chasing the ice cream truck, riding a bicycle, and flying from the swing set.