The special care nursery at Swedish throws a reunion party every other year for past 'alumni.' It felt strange, driving to Swedish today with Beatrice belting out "party!" in the back seat. I'd like to say we are totally over the trauma with which she began her life, but mostly it feels like a separate life. How can we reconcile her early days with the child who refused to be pealed away from the bouncy castle? Like a typical toddler, Beatrice is demanding, energetic, and more fun than we could have ever imagined. We hardly have a chance these days to pause and think about that summer. But driving the familiar route to Swedish today, parking in the underground lot, taking the elevator up to the lobby, seeing the faces of fellow preemie parents - it was both heartbreaking and freeing. The memories came back, but we made it. Bea made it. We'll forever be part of the club, but it's really good that we get to choose when we visit.
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