It had been close to a year since we had had much to do with the children's hospital. Yes, we had a few follow-up outpatient appointments, but those were all housed in a different section of the building and didn't really stir up any angst or resentment despite the hellish ride we had been on.
While I would, of course, never forget Riley- both for our amazing NICU team and our horrible broken leg adventure- I certainly didn't think about the hospital on a daily, or even weekly, basis. And I definitely had stopped worrying about being in any kind of "trouble"...
One day in August of 2007, when my former micropreemie was about 20 months old, my phone rang.
"Hi, this is Maureen. I work with Riley Children's Foundation."
"Oh... hi. How are you?" (I swear, I've been known to even ask telemarketers how they are... these things are so ingrained in my head. Tell me I'm not alone.)
She went on to tell me that she had gotten my name from the hospital...
And my heart stopped for a moment.
For just a brief second, I wondered if something had come up and they were going to open up a whole new series of investigations about me. While I still really didn't care if they wanted to check in on me, I was terrified that they were going to put my sweet little girl through more unnecessary tests. I forced myself to keep listening through the buzzing in my ears...
"Dr. L. gave me your name. He told me that I simply must talk to your family."
I relaxed a bit. If she had gotten my name from Dr. L, the odds were good that it wasn't anything bad.
"I'm calling because Riley is launching a new series of commercials. Our campaign is 'Hope Happens Here'. We're wondering if you'd be willing to share your story."
"As part of a collection? Did you want some quotes from us or some statements about why we loved Riley?"
"We want to do a commercial about your family. How do you feel about that?"
Thinking of the NICU team that saved our tiny baby girl... Dr. L. who stood by our sides when the going got tough... our amazing pediatric ophthalmologist who is the reason my daughter is not blind...
I did not hesitate.
"Sure. We'll do it."
to be cont.