and made them cry

Tired of making moms cry.  Post-partum women are emotional, so am I, but it isn't fun.  Last afternoon it was the mom of a baby delivered breech at another hospital, only they couldn't get the baby's head out for about half an hour after the body was delivered.  Half an hour of no oxygenated blood to the brain is pretty devastating.  Babies are resilient, but I don't think this one can make it.  It is so hard to find the balance between leaving room for miracles, and not giving false hope.  When the silent tears start to drip down their face, as they lie in their beds, in pain and alone, I know they understand the gravity of the situation.  Today it was a frustrated mom who just wanted to go home and couldn't grasp that her febrile baby could die if she left.  I am rarely so adamant, but I could see she was irrational, and she would someday be glad someone pushed her to a little more patience.  

One last call from the hospital and I'm out the door.  Scott and I have our 24th anniversary Monday, and Dan and Gini who are visiting had their tenth yesterday, so we're all four going to a nearby inexpensive cottage/garden/dinner sort of club where we can have an evening of friendship and an overnight away.  Three teens home alone.  Caleb with SAT's tomorrow, then his first rugby game, then we have a dozen teens for dinner tomorrow.  So praying to find an intake of breath, of spirit, of grace in the next 12 hours.  Prayers appreciated.