NICU loud yawn

Funny, I'm finding it so different this time. I'm looking at her tiny little fingers through the transparent walls of the incubator with amazement. Sitting beside the machine, I'm preparing her 4PM-medicines.
Her body's about the size of a 12 oz. coke; so petite that i couldn't believe i've been caring for a baby not a puppy or kitten.
Apparently, she's underdeveloped. As small as my fingers, her upper limbs would usually move as if grasping for something. My malnourished cat's head i guess would a lot better be larger than her head. I can't help but meet my eyebrows whenever she breathes; and it would proudly exaggerate her already obvious rib cage.
It is an imperative part of my job to closely watch for her skin color; as at times she forgets to breathe. Surely,your peace will be ruined for a couple of minutes worrying for her cyanosis.
Like any other babies, she cries without any consideration. To this I coerced my self to be immuned. Otherwise it would be an 8-hour hell. One thing she's proud about herself is that she doesn't stop wailing that easily; count an interval of five seconds, she'll be back into sobbing after just a short period of an awaited silence.
She loves peeing almost every 20 minutes. She moves her bowel every hour; and the need not to put her on diaper to monitor her intake and output requires me to frequently change her soaked underpad in despair. Happy holidays to me.
She gets her food through her IV fluid. it's also where I infuse her "must-be-accurate"antibiotics and surfactants. Poor little fellow, never had the chance to relish her mom's colostrom.
In her front is positioned an O2 funnel, an air for her compromised oxygenation, which i would always try so hard to fix to her mouth and nose since she's so motile.
It would just sound tiring to know of how to care for her but every end of the shift would truly bless one a fulfilled heart to have cared for an innocent life, to have witnessed her every strife to win the day, to have shared with her an optimism to treat every morning a triumph. For these very reasons, to her i am indebted with an outright elation.
There is a long way yet to go; her courage has to take it's full maturity to fight for her deferred full term. She may wail or the other way around, she may stop breathing and turn black or breathe again, endure the inconvenient medication or unfavorable temporary habitat; all through the day until night comes and ends to day again, her struggle has to continue towards the long pursuit for viability.

sugarproof

9:45 in the morning. im spending my time here in itoy's. Funny i ordered a milk in a not favorable price so i compensated writing over my thoughts using all this tissues at my front.
Im disdained by previous mistakes.. i could hardly get into another line until all the flaws are forfeited. its an emotional malady. i should always come here to express and find silence, i guess.. seems like playing the guitar wont work this time..
If its not that i have been addicted compromising, i wont be thinking this narrow.. but before it culminates i'll have to offer it a litte prayer . i know i should never be disheartened to go back and stand an aspiration that never dims :)
The cup is empty. this is no longer a flyleaf. i have written and this discourse has nothing to do with the folklore. outside it's raining. it's good i wasn't able to buy an umbrella 'coz i could have been going home without satisfting this blank tissue sheet.
The forcible aroma of coffe is inticing my nostrils. im a foolproof. 'coz im disconsulate and it's uncivil to rather outweigh the best of the time using fancy colors. that would then be cupidity..
To dismount myself off this place is to end these lines.. it started from my chest straight to this technology..now breathing is better heard.
.. still, the spoon is unused but im done with the steamed milk. could it be that it's tastier. but it's left unopned.. that sugar garapon..:)

july find

..he is viewing with apathy from the inside of the shop..the air gets cooler and it's never as pleasurable compared to the regular mornings that he would usually spend walking to the downtown.
he sensed rest as the jazz music reached its resolution.nothing could ever break his heart.his lips could either open or close.life is an easy walk.it's ironic that his eyes are not as mindful of the routines.all are vain without a smile in the end.it has to be fair.'coz otherwise it's unfair and it's apparently what everybody would never want.
across the table is a beautiful lady.her eyes are calm.her face gives him a sunburn.her ways enthusiastically make him think deeper over the messy table.the general score is the mere fact they're in the same place to find peace.
he can't speak but his heart is full. she waves her hair. he raises unconsciously those eyebrows.it wasn't a skill but natures way of expressing a meaning nobody expects that very moment.
the clock impatiently hit 3PM. he left a 120 pesos bill worth an hour of music and admiration...