I wasn’t ready to have this baby, but I would have to rise to the occasion
What was I doing here?
This hard white bed and the sterile room were going to be distant memories very soon — obviously. The hospital was a poor substitute for our tiny apartment tucked away on a busy street in Yerushalayim, my solid (if somewhat predictable) computer data entry job, and my new husband learning in the Mir. And at 27 weeks, I still had a long way to go before meeting my first baby.
So when the nurse bustled in and said, “Nechmadah, I’m here to give you a tour of the NICU for when you give birth,” I stared incredulously.
“I don’t need a tour,” I informed her. “I’m not giving birth early.”
She was too polite to laugh.
I was too upset to appreciate her restraint. I wanted my own lump-free mattress, a shower that left me feeling clean, and my regular routine. Was that too much to ask?
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