Mommy Instinct and hope

I was watching Oprah the other day, and she had Jenny McCarthy on as a guest discussing her new book documenting her life with her son, who has been diagnosed with Autism. During the show, McCarthy kept referring to her "mommy instinct" when discussing her life with her son. Her "mommy instinct" kicked in when her son was diagnosed with Autism (her instinct told her the diagnosis was correct), and as she learned to define a new "normal" with her son (her "mommy instinct" told her that things would be okay). I think every mother has that "mommy instinct", whether you have actually ever experienced it or not.
I think I first became aware of my "mommy instinct" when I was pregnant in the hospital with Eli and went into full labor after receiving steroid shots at 24 weeks gestation. The doctors and nurses thought a delivery was inevitable. Truthfully, that thought never crossed my mind. I spent three days in Labor & Delivery, but knew I would be leaving there pregnant (maybe the drugs clouded my thoughts a bit). Again, at 24 weeks, when I was advised to remove my cerclage because of the high risk of infection due to my membranes rupturing, which would have led to an immediate delivery, my "mommy instinct" told me to wait. I understood that there was a risk of infection leading to the death of Eli, and possibly myself, but mommy instinct told me to wait. "Mommy instinct" was still there at 27 weeks when Eli made his arrival. Not once did I ever think that I wouldn't be bringing my boy home. Though Eli had a much more difficult NICU stay than anyone could have anticipated, I knew he would be coming home. That doesn't mean that those 148 days that Eli spent in the NICU I didn't worry. I worried every minute of every day, crying more than I ever thought possible. As difficult as it was to leave him there every day, I knew he would eventually be coming home to us.
The worrying did not end with his homecoming, just a new set of worries replaced the old. As each day passes though, my "mommy instinct" tells me that things will be okay. We are slowly progressing toward Eli being "normal" but definitely getting there. Every time I look at him and he gives me that beautiful smile, my "mommy instinct" tells me that things will be just fine.
Which leads me to what I hope for. When you have a child that faces more than your average challenges, I think you spend some amount of time starting thoughts and sentences with "I hope". Some of my "I hope" list for Eli includes, in no particular order: 1. I hope that Eli's breathing quiets down, so that I don't have to hear comments like "oh, poor baby", 2. I hope Eli's breathing quiets down before he understands comments like "oh, poor baby", 3. I hope we make it though Eli's first winter home without any major illnesses or hospital stays (my "mommy instinct" says that all will be fine), 4. I hope I love, hold, and kiss Eli enough to make up for the four and a half months he spent in the NICU and not being held, 5. I hope Eli doesn't remember his time in the NICU, 6. I hope the scars covering Eli's body fade enough with time that they are not a source of future questions, 7. I hope that Vic and I some day forget the NICU, 8. I hope that some day soon that sentences spoken with Eli's therapists and doctors don't include "compared to a normal baby", and 9. More than anything else, I hope that soon, we and everyone look at Eli for the sweet, silly, beautiful baby that he is and forget that he was born three months premature.