I spent 5 years of my life attending university. I worked hard... like insanely hard. I majored in Education and I was shocked at the amount of work that was required. I had to write lessons plans on how to write lesson plans. I had classes on how to teach classes. I had to take a music class, a PE class and an art class on how to be a musical, PE, art teacher. When I finally finally graduated I was so proud of myself. I had earned my degree and after all my work and five long years, I became a teacher.

It only took 35 minutes for me to become a mother. It was a fast, hysterical time and totally insane. And I wouldn't call it my finest moment either. I wasn't proud of this accomplishment.  I was pretty sure my baby wasn't going to survive and I was pretty mad about it.

People immediately started congratulating us and I was stunned. Seriously? Getting congratulated on having a premature baby is like thanking someone for rear ending you. It just doesn't work. I felt like I was being applauded for having an incompetent cervix and being too stupid to realize that I had been having contractions for weeks now. I mean the last two days I had been IN LABOR and I had no clue.  

The rest of the night was weird.  The doctor from the NICU called and explained what was going on with Logan. I was totally confused and overwhelmed so I just mumbled a few things and hung up. I remember being hooked up to a breast pump early early in the morning and I almost laughed at the teeny amount of milk I got. I was told that pumping was one of the main things I could do to help Logan. The lactation specialist said I was producing liquid gold and needed to be sure to save every single drop. I was also totally humiliated that the nurse just pulled my gown off and poked and squeezed my boobs like it was a normal thing to do. In reality that was just the beginning. Over the next three months my poor boobs would be seen and touched and squished by most of the NICU staff and even some of Logan's doctors.

After breakfast I starting getting antsy about being in the hospital. I wanted to leave but at the same time I just wanted to forget everything that had happened. I wanted to get up and I wanted to go back to sleep. Grayson was supposed to come get me later in the afternoon so we could go see Logan but I also thought about just staying in the hospital and avoiding whatever was going on with him. The doctor and nurse both suggested that I stay another night and get better. They still had no idea why I went into preterm labor and I was not feeling well. However I had a nagging feeling that I needed to go see my baby. I was so unprepared for what I saw.