When I was a child, the Peter, Paul, and Mary version of this song would induce a very cathartic cry. Dealing with the divorce and remarriage of my parents created a bit of grief that went unchecked for sometime. This song, among others, enabled me to reach parts of my sadness that I was unable to pin point or verbalize. I used to imagine this song was about my mother leaving. Now, as an adult who has watched her husband fly away for long periods of separation more times that I can count, this song has become a theme of sorts during the beginning of deployments.
Now that I think about it, I have been on a plane with him once. Once, in the 8 years we have been together, we have flown together once. Our honeymoon. I vow to change this upon his return. I pray the next time his suitcase is in the hall mine will right next to it.
The biggest adjustment for me is the lack of communication. We are so used to being able to email, text, call, chat, or skype. The instant gratification of all of these modes of communication isn't appreciated fully until you no longer have the ability to reach your loved one. Yesterday, my cell phone notified me that I had a new text. It was a message from our provider stating that his phone number was not deactivated per our request. Although, I had spoken to him hours before and he told me after he hung up he was calling to deactivate the phone, that message was like a swift kick in the throat. There are umpteen times a day that I reach for my phone to text or call him or think "I need to tell him this." Mundane things about my day, random musings and observations about life, silly things our children did flow through my brain and stop because I can't share them with him. No one else on this planet cares that Tiny Tot is eating carrots or that the Boy Wonder is growing up so fast I sometimes think I can actually SEE his pants getting shorter. I start Facebook statuses and erase them so many times because I realize I have become "that" mom. The oversharer. I have a twitter account for my Scentsy business but I often think "Thank goodness I don't use this for personal updates. I would tweet the most boring and obnoxious things." He gets me. He gets my sense of humor. In his world, I am funny, witty, smart, and the most important phone call or text of the day. Without him, I'm the person that does the laundry, trains small ones to pee on the potty, chauffeur, and cook. Of course there is so much more to mothering than that but in the first few days, this is what it feels like.
As I write this I am acutely aware that deployment is different than death. Please don't ever misread my sadness and think I am not insanely grateful that my husband is alive. I know there are people out there missing loved ones who will never reactivate their phones. When I experience a loss of any kind, and I try to write about it, I always feel that I don't allow myself the ability to feel what I am feeling without somehow experiencing guilt. I get it. There will always be people out there with a crappier situation. I am going to truly try to just be honest with how I am feeling as I travel down this road. I have two small children both of which adore their Daddy. They haven't lived with him for the entire year since 2010. It sucks. There isn't a way to sugar coat it. All the "just be thankful he is coming home" and "try to have fun and the time will pass" statements in the world won't change the fact that my 2 year old goes to the front door and calls out "Daddy!" It won't change the fact that I have an amazing marriage yet I have felt like I have been in prison for the past two years because the longest visit we have had has been 3 weeks.
I am going to be honest because I am tired of putting on the happy face. It is day 2 of official deployment and it sucks. Until you have walked a mile...glass houses and all that jazz.
"Now the time has come to leave you
One more time let me kiss you
Then close your eyes, and I'll be on my way.
Dream about the days to come
When I won't have to leave alone
About the times, I won't have to say..."
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Sidewalk Chalk
I have been considering writing a post for quite some time now but keep stopping myself. Why? Well, honestly, perhaps a bit of ego. I go through periods of time when I read random blogs. These are people I do not know in real life but have followed on and off for years for various reasons. Most of them have amazing stories of love and loss or great adventure. I stopped myself from writing because I felt as if my story wasn't yet interesting enough to put into cyberspace. Today, in a funk, I found myself scrolling through some of my favorite blogs. Most of these are centered around very sad situations. It isn't as if I am fascinated by morbidity, it is quite the opposite. There are many things that draw me to these people's lives. First, many of them blogged before their life changing event. The mid 2000s sparked a new way to chronicle every day life: births of children, their upcoming wedding, holidays, and recipes. What is fascinating to me is how normal their lives appeared and how clueless most of them were, as we all would be, before tragedy struck. No, this alone does not give me any satisfaction. After following their grief posts, you learn so much about the human condition. It is endearing to me to see these people pull out of grief and find happiness again.
So, I was reading through some of the blogs when it occurred to me. They have a story because they all had a beginning. Back when their posts were about potty training or problems with their teen at school, it all was a beginning. It gave their later experiences context. I am not blogging in anticipation of tragedy but I do feel that there is healing in writing. We have had a tumultuous couple years and now we are once again separated due to a deployment.
I won't be posting specific information about his deployment but mainly how the three of us left behind are coping. Many days, I feel like it is a struggle just to go through the normal motions of daily activity. Sometimes, this alarms me. Am I depressed? Is this normal? Do other mothers feel this way ever? I convinced myself a while back that I was just not doing this right and that all the other mothers I ran into had some secret that I didn't know. They were always smiling, their kids perfectly coiffed, and I was still in my yoga pants (not used for yoga, I assure you). Then it dawned on me, all mothers feel this way sometime. The difference? We have been trained, especially in the South, not to talk about it. We don't admit when we feel less than or when little Johnny is driving us crazy. We were taught at a young age to be presentable in public (a lesson I started abandoning when my Crohn's came back with a vengeance and he was deployed the last time) and keep our skeletons in the closet with our spare hand bags. Seriously, I decided to break this Southern Mama's code and just be honest.
There are days I dread going to pick up the kids from carpool because I haven't had a chance to put on makeup and I look like death. There are days when I have no idea what is for dinner and figure it out 5 minutes before I serve it. There are days when watching TV on the couch is more appealing than cleaning or running errands while they are at school. There are days when I want to throw something at the screen and make Jake or Mickey shut up and solve the problem already!!! There are days when I wonder why is this so hard?
People have said to me over the past few months "Oh, you are Wonder Woman" or "Super Mom." I have heard this many times in the last year. So much that it started to bother me. I recently had a relaxing debriefing, cause seriously I was doing all the talking and she was helping me process, in one of my dear friend's childhood bedroom. I told her that I was disturbed by this label because I felt so far from a Super Mom. It made me wonder what type of false self was I advertising to the world via Facebook or other online outlets. "How in the world do they think that when there are days I don't get dressed?" She was wonderful and said that the fact that I parent two small boys and have been doing this on my own for more than a year already due to my husband's deployments in addition to having a debilitating disease AND my own business was enough, but that my children seem well adjusted, fed, and clean. Hmm. I thought about this and it started to make sense.
I was suffering from Mommy Guilt. If you aren't a mother, you haven't experienced it. The closest thing I can compare it to is the neighbor lust some people experience called "Keeping up with the Joneses'" Yeah, you read these mommy blogs of people who are absolutely in love with their angelic perfect children. They are always going on Nature walks to gather materials for the arts and crafts they are going to do to complete their section on nature. They are home schooled or either do extra school together after school. They love to cook together, they sew, their children look like they came out of a magazine. Then it dawns on me-they look that way because their mothers retouch the photos to give them the perfection we all see. They also present themselves as if we are watching them through a snow globe. Their world is filtered and idyllic. Forget the time Sally was helping in the kitchen and splattered batter all over the ceiling while William turned the stove on and melted the Tupperware all over the burner. That. Didn't. Happen. Because, they don't want you to think it happened.
Yes, those blogs can serve to inspire us to be better or give us great ideas for art projects to try with our children but most of the time they do the opposite to me. They make me feel like I am harming my children because we haven't recorded our first family album and we don't have 7 trips to Disney under our belt.
My friend made me think that sometimes getting them fed, bathed, read to, and put to bed IS enough. They have stability. It might not be a glamorous life. We might not do super duper exciting things but they are happy. As both came traipsing in the house covered head to toe in the sidewalk chalk, toy trucks and strewn through out the yard, I thought to myself,
"Today, was a good day."
_________________________________________________________________
Things I learned:
1. Planning out a week's worth of meals and attempting to stick to a schedule DOES cut down on chaos at meal times.
2. Bento Box lunches make my children happy.
3. "I want BEER" means "I want my BEAR" in 2 year old speech.
4. A shower does make you feel like a brand new person.
5. Our 5 year old thinks 100% in absolutes. He makes me laugh, daily.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Grace
Upon hearing the news and not hearing the sound we so desperately craved, a song began to play in my head on permanent loop. It has shown up before in my mind during times of extreme pain and grief. I am not certain but think I might have used it in this blog before or either on Whimsy's care page. The title has even more meaning as the night before our appointment, we added it to our name list. My grief is not yet here in a complete way. I know that it will come in just a few short hours. My body has not shown any signs of miscarriage. I am a vessel of denial. We experienced this type of loss before. My body just doesn't get the message and continues to grow and give me symptoms. It is hard to convince yourself you aren't anymore when you feel the same as you did last week.
Grace is a great song and it does appropriately emote for me what I cannot...yet. However, this time there is a nagging issue with one of the lines. "I've lost everything" doesn't ring true with me anymore. I am devastated. I am lost. I am hurting in a way I did not think possible but one thing that I know is that I have not lost everything. I am hoping that this small realization will be a stepping stone to turn my grief indeed to grace. My husband has taken over all the care giving of our children. He is in charge of my PICC management and makes sure I am flushed with Heparin and Saline twice daily. He hangs my fluids and gives my medication. He is so amazing. My two little ones light up my heart when they giggle or dance or say my name. My friends have sent the most wonderful messages and most importantly haven't said anything. No one has told me I SHOULD be thankful for what I have, and for that, I am thankful. I know I haven't lost everything but what we have lost immeasurable.
I leave for the hospital in 4 and a half hours. I know I should be sleeping but it is easier said than done. I don't have the words but silence wasn't comfortable anymore. Today is sweet boy's 2nd birthday. In just a few short hours, I will enter the same OR. I will try to remember when I look around to be thankful for the miracle that occurred in that room 2 years ago. I will try to find solace in celebrating his life. I will also be honest and give my grief it's rightful place. The process is hard but it has a purpose.
Grace-Kate Havenik
I'm on my knees
only memories
are left for me to hold
Don't know how
but I'll get by
Slowly pull myself together
There's no escape
So keep me safe
This feels so unreal
Nothing comes easily
Fill this empty space
Nothing is like it seems
Turn my grief to grace
I feel the cold
Loneliness unfold
Like from another world
Come what may
I won't fade away
But I know I might change
Nothing comes easily
Fill this empty space
Nothing is like it was
Turn my grief to grace
Nothing comes easily
Where do I begin?
Nothing can bring me peace
I've lost everything
I just want to feel your embrace
Grace is a great song and it does appropriately emote for me what I cannot...yet. However, this time there is a nagging issue with one of the lines. "I've lost everything" doesn't ring true with me anymore. I am devastated. I am lost. I am hurting in a way I did not think possible but one thing that I know is that I have not lost everything. I am hoping that this small realization will be a stepping stone to turn my grief indeed to grace. My husband has taken over all the care giving of our children. He is in charge of my PICC management and makes sure I am flushed with Heparin and Saline twice daily. He hangs my fluids and gives my medication. He is so amazing. My two little ones light up my heart when they giggle or dance or say my name. My friends have sent the most wonderful messages and most importantly haven't said anything. No one has told me I SHOULD be thankful for what I have, and for that, I am thankful. I know I haven't lost everything but what we have lost immeasurable.
I leave for the hospital in 4 and a half hours. I know I should be sleeping but it is easier said than done. I don't have the words but silence wasn't comfortable anymore. Today is sweet boy's 2nd birthday. In just a few short hours, I will enter the same OR. I will try to remember when I look around to be thankful for the miracle that occurred in that room 2 years ago. I will try to find solace in celebrating his life. I will also be honest and give my grief it's rightful place. The process is hard but it has a purpose.
Grace-Kate Havenik
I'm on my knees
only memories
are left for me to hold
Don't know how
but I'll get by
Slowly pull myself together
There's no escape
So keep me safe
This feels so unreal
Nothing comes easily
Fill this empty space
Nothing is like it seems
Turn my grief to grace
I feel the cold
Loneliness unfold
Like from another world
Come what may
I won't fade away
But I know I might change
Nothing comes easily
Fill this empty space
Nothing is like it was
Turn my grief to grace
Nothing comes easily
Where do I begin?
Nothing can bring me peace
I've lost everything
I just want to feel your embrace
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Nightmare
I cannot sleep. My heart is beating fast and I feel almost panicked. I had the most horrible dream that something happened to sweet baby. My dreams have always been vivid-full of sounds, color, smells and raw emotion. Flashing lights, raw terror, paramedics...cold...holding him and then not.
I won't continue because lucky for me, it was just a dream. My hands are shaking as I type this. I realized that I hadn't blogged in a long time. I haven't shared any of the adorable things that sweet boy has done. I haven't commented on how grown up the Boy Wonder has become. I am vowing to be better, to record their achievements.
This dream has renewed my absolute gratitude for those boys. THANK YOU GOD that it was just a nightmare. Thank you for those two sweet angels that are safe sleeping in their beds.
This pain makes me miss our sweet one that isn't with us but again so relieved that the two that are here are safe.
The words here are poorly strung along. There isn't any true sense of thought...just me trying to expel the dream from my head.
I hope this pain will subside and I can return to sleep...this time, dreamless.
I won't continue because lucky for me, it was just a dream. My hands are shaking as I type this. I realized that I hadn't blogged in a long time. I haven't shared any of the adorable things that sweet boy has done. I haven't commented on how grown up the Boy Wonder has become. I am vowing to be better, to record their achievements.
This dream has renewed my absolute gratitude for those boys. THANK YOU GOD that it was just a nightmare. Thank you for those two sweet angels that are safe sleeping in their beds.
This pain makes me miss our sweet one that isn't with us but again so relieved that the two that are here are safe.
The words here are poorly strung along. There isn't any true sense of thought...just me trying to expel the dream from my head.
I hope this pain will subside and I can return to sleep...this time, dreamless.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
One is NOT the Loneliest number....
Today was perfect. We took your brother to VBS and then played at home. We saw so many people who loved you through the NICU at VBS when we returned at noon to retrieve your brother. We met Daddy at the Deli for lunch and then returned home for a much needed nap.
We played in the afternoon and just enjoyed being a tiny family. You laughed, showing off your new buds of teeth you are finally getting! You have perfected your own version of the Army crawl and you love to bounce your bottom to any music. I can tell by watching, you will be crawling in no time. Crawling? He's not crawling yet? Are you worried about it? Someone asked today. "Absolutely not."
I am so relieved that today was perfect. I didn't attempt to plan the day or run around in some high anxiety filled frenzy trying to do something special. I just let you be you and do what you wanted to do, which incidentally involved putting many things in your mouth. Whatever calm that came over me today, was a divine blessing. I enjoyed you. You are going to do things on your own time table.
Daddy came home and we dressed you in your brother's shirt from his first birthday. It was big on you but we thought it would make a great tradition. We ate dinner and then Daddy had me bring you in our room to play. Your Daddy cleaned the living room and surprised us by decorating and wrapping a few extra gifts. He picked up your "one' cake and a couple cupcakes for us. We helped you open your gifts and then gave you cake. Since you are almost the opposite of your brother, we were prepared for you to attack the cake. You didn't disappoint. Your brother, on his first birthday, wasn't interested in smashing or even eating his cake. I think he even cried when we put icing on his finger!
We stopped you before you got sick, gave you a bath, bottle and snuggle.
Today was perfect because it was normal. No Dr's, no fear, no worries..just love. We return to our weekly appointments tomorrow but for today, we just were Mommy, Baby, Brother and Daddy. I liked that we did low-key. No visitors, just us.
Happy Birthday Whimsy. I know it was your birthday but I feel like I got the gift.
Love you.
(I'll post a different birthday letter later. I just realized the time. I wanted to get this in before the clock struck midnight.)
We played in the afternoon and just enjoyed being a tiny family. You laughed, showing off your new buds of teeth you are finally getting! You have perfected your own version of the Army crawl and you love to bounce your bottom to any music. I can tell by watching, you will be crawling in no time. Crawling? He's not crawling yet? Are you worried about it? Someone asked today. "Absolutely not."
I am so relieved that today was perfect. I didn't attempt to plan the day or run around in some high anxiety filled frenzy trying to do something special. I just let you be you and do what you wanted to do, which incidentally involved putting many things in your mouth. Whatever calm that came over me today, was a divine blessing. I enjoyed you. You are going to do things on your own time table.
Daddy came home and we dressed you in your brother's shirt from his first birthday. It was big on you but we thought it would make a great tradition. We ate dinner and then Daddy had me bring you in our room to play. Your Daddy cleaned the living room and surprised us by decorating and wrapping a few extra gifts. He picked up your "one' cake and a couple cupcakes for us. We helped you open your gifts and then gave you cake. Since you are almost the opposite of your brother, we were prepared for you to attack the cake. You didn't disappoint. Your brother, on his first birthday, wasn't interested in smashing or even eating his cake. I think he even cried when we put icing on his finger!
We stopped you before you got sick, gave you a bath, bottle and snuggle.
Today was perfect because it was normal. No Dr's, no fear, no worries..just love. We return to our weekly appointments tomorrow but for today, we just were Mommy, Baby, Brother and Daddy. I liked that we did low-key. No visitors, just us.
Happy Birthday Whimsy. I know it was your birthday but I feel like I got the gift.
Love you.
(I'll post a different birthday letter later. I just realized the time. I wanted to get this in before the clock struck midnight.)
Monday, July 11, 2011
There is in every true woman's heart a spark of heavenly fire, which lies dormant in the broad daylight of prosperity; but which kindles up, and beams and blazes in the dark hour of adversity.
-- Washington Irving
-- Washington Irving
The turning point in the process of growing up is when you discover the core of strength within you that survives all hurt.
-- Max Lerner
-- Max Lerner
Anxiety
As the baby's first birthday approaches, I find myself filled with anxiety that almost takes my breath away. Even as I write this, there is a small burning sensation in my stomach and my heart beat is slightly faster. Intellectually, I understand the emotional memory and how it is tied to our physical memory. I understand that this time last year, things were so unknown. I am so happy to be able to celebrate his first birthday. After what we experienced, I know I am blessed. There are Mama's out there that are about to experience an entirely different "one year." The ones that lost their little ones while we were in the NICU.
At first, I wasn't comfortable sharing these feelings in this blog. I know at least one person who reads my entries spends a great deal of their life judging me and others. However, as I decided a long time ago, I needed to be true to this process. Many of you have emailed me and thanked me for the raw honesty I shared this time last year, so why should this be any different? I am not going to allow myself to feel guilty for having feelings. From what I have read, it is completely natural to have some anxiety or even sadness as this time approaches. The body remembers the fear, pain and sadness.
I hope that as Tuesday approaches, the joy outweighs any anxiety of what we went through. I had a Dr.'s appointment last week to check on my healing from a surgery I had a couple weeks ago. He told me that it is completely normal to have some conflicting emotions in the next few weeks. He knew to address the situation without me mentioning anything I was feeling. He said he has heard from many patients that had a child in the NICU how the birthday was filled with mixed emotions. I am still not ready to look at the photographs but I know that time will come.
For some of you, this entry may seem odd. Why should I have any feeling but happiness? I wish I knew the answer but from what I have learned in this past year unless you have had a child in the NICU, you just can't fully appreciate the experience. Birth is supposed to be a happy occasion. An emergency C-Section ending in a 6 week NICU stay followed by a 1 week PICU stay isn't an ideal way to begin a new life. I missed tons of things with the Boy Wonder, including his birthday party that I worked so hard to plan.
Several of my dear friends have given birth in the past two weeks. I found myself anxiously refreshing their pages once they were in labor, feeling so relieved once everyone made it safely. The pictures of Mommy and Baby and Daddy and Baby during the first few hours are so beautiful it is almost heart breaking. These pictures help me understand why I have sadness surrounding his birth. I didn't get to see him until he was over a day old. I never met the woman who cared for him during his first 12 hours of life. She rotated into Nursery A after that night so I never got to really talk to her. It is such an odd thing, somewhere out there is an amazing woman. A woman who sat by my baby's Giraffe Incubator and watched his every breath. She loved him and cared for him since I couldn't be there. She was an extension of myself. We wait for months and months to see our babies, to learn them. We day dream about who they will favor, how will they sound what will their smile be like. We don't prepare ourselves for having a baby that others can see and touch yet you are isolated from said child. I vaguely remember begging nurse Valerie to allow me to go see him. This happened once and I got the "good drugs." At the time I was so worried about any medication entering my breast milk and so I was prompt to refuse most things for pain but my Dr. was so wise to give me some memory scrambling feel good stuff. My best friend brought me food and stayed til late. She did this when Boy Wonder was born. She had wonderful things to tell me about the new guy she was dating. The medications helped me as it was if I didn't have a care in the world. Now, I have some guilt. It is so weird that I was making phone calls post op and talking as if everything was fine. Now, I know from talking to my Dr. that the medications they gave me were the reason I seemed fine.
I wasn't fine. I didn't get to hold him or feed him or change his diaper for a long time. This is weird for me because we roomed in when our older son was born. We kept him near us until he developed sever jaundice and had to be taken to the intermediate nursery on day 3. I remember missing him terribly and he was just down the hall. I cannot recreate Whimsy's birth. I cannot change the way things happened. I am just going to honor this experience so hopefully I can help someone else.
I remember the first time I was able to touch him. Staring at him, trying to find some resemblance to one of us, trying to connect with this sweet angel that I didn't yet know. Unlike our old son, it took several visits to really learn how to connect with him. Everything surrounding his birth was so foreign and clinical. His tubes, lines, monitors and special care were all so new to us. Yet, I remember being so amazed at how beautiful he was to us.
One of my sweet family members spent the entire summer making sure I was sane. She visited me often and brought me things. She loved me through this entire process. She didn't have too much experience with L & D apart from when her sister was born and when the Boy Wonder was born. She braved the NICU to be with me so I wouldn't have to be alone early on in the process. I will never forget watching her fear melt away once she was able to really see him. She was such a blessing to me.
As I type these things, that voice is constantly correcting me saying "Be thankful that he is here. Stop complaining." That voice isn't my own. It belongs to the person that lives inside that criticizes me for feeling things. I say to that person, "I am not complaining." I am being a real person, with conflicting and real feelings. I overheard someone say recently, "It must be awfully exhausting trying to be someone she's not." The most amazing part of this statement is that the very person spewing these words is the one person that I have watched change to suit the surroundings. So as I stated earlier, I am not going to apologize for honesty. There are many grammatical issues I would go back and change but I have decided to leave this entry unedited. I feel as if the rawness may be less reader friendly but more accurate. My words aren't flowing like they usually do but I am ok with that too!
Love one another. Thank you for all that you have done for us in the past year and 9 months. This journey has been possible because so many of our friends, our created family, have embraced us and helped us get through. We are incredibly blessed by all of you. In this moment, I think of that song from the Sound of Music "Something Good." I have an amazing husband-he not only loves me, he likes me! I know some people that never found that. I have two gorgeous children. I have the greatest support system for which a girl could ask!
"Nothing comes from nothing, nothing ever could. So somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good."
Blessings.
At first, I wasn't comfortable sharing these feelings in this blog. I know at least one person who reads my entries spends a great deal of their life judging me and others. However, as I decided a long time ago, I needed to be true to this process. Many of you have emailed me and thanked me for the raw honesty I shared this time last year, so why should this be any different? I am not going to allow myself to feel guilty for having feelings. From what I have read, it is completely natural to have some anxiety or even sadness as this time approaches. The body remembers the fear, pain and sadness.
I hope that as Tuesday approaches, the joy outweighs any anxiety of what we went through. I had a Dr.'s appointment last week to check on my healing from a surgery I had a couple weeks ago. He told me that it is completely normal to have some conflicting emotions in the next few weeks. He knew to address the situation without me mentioning anything I was feeling. He said he has heard from many patients that had a child in the NICU how the birthday was filled with mixed emotions. I am still not ready to look at the photographs but I know that time will come.
For some of you, this entry may seem odd. Why should I have any feeling but happiness? I wish I knew the answer but from what I have learned in this past year unless you have had a child in the NICU, you just can't fully appreciate the experience. Birth is supposed to be a happy occasion. An emergency C-Section ending in a 6 week NICU stay followed by a 1 week PICU stay isn't an ideal way to begin a new life. I missed tons of things with the Boy Wonder, including his birthday party that I worked so hard to plan.
Several of my dear friends have given birth in the past two weeks. I found myself anxiously refreshing their pages once they were in labor, feeling so relieved once everyone made it safely. The pictures of Mommy and Baby and Daddy and Baby during the first few hours are so beautiful it is almost heart breaking. These pictures help me understand why I have sadness surrounding his birth. I didn't get to see him until he was over a day old. I never met the woman who cared for him during his first 12 hours of life. She rotated into Nursery A after that night so I never got to really talk to her. It is such an odd thing, somewhere out there is an amazing woman. A woman who sat by my baby's Giraffe Incubator and watched his every breath. She loved him and cared for him since I couldn't be there. She was an extension of myself. We wait for months and months to see our babies, to learn them. We day dream about who they will favor, how will they sound what will their smile be like. We don't prepare ourselves for having a baby that others can see and touch yet you are isolated from said child. I vaguely remember begging nurse Valerie to allow me to go see him. This happened once and I got the "good drugs." At the time I was so worried about any medication entering my breast milk and so I was prompt to refuse most things for pain but my Dr. was so wise to give me some memory scrambling feel good stuff. My best friend brought me food and stayed til late. She did this when Boy Wonder was born. She had wonderful things to tell me about the new guy she was dating. The medications helped me as it was if I didn't have a care in the world. Now, I have some guilt. It is so weird that I was making phone calls post op and talking as if everything was fine. Now, I know from talking to my Dr. that the medications they gave me were the reason I seemed fine.
I wasn't fine. I didn't get to hold him or feed him or change his diaper for a long time. This is weird for me because we roomed in when our older son was born. We kept him near us until he developed sever jaundice and had to be taken to the intermediate nursery on day 3. I remember missing him terribly and he was just down the hall. I cannot recreate Whimsy's birth. I cannot change the way things happened. I am just going to honor this experience so hopefully I can help someone else.
I remember the first time I was able to touch him. Staring at him, trying to find some resemblance to one of us, trying to connect with this sweet angel that I didn't yet know. Unlike our old son, it took several visits to really learn how to connect with him. Everything surrounding his birth was so foreign and clinical. His tubes, lines, monitors and special care were all so new to us. Yet, I remember being so amazed at how beautiful he was to us.
One of my sweet family members spent the entire summer making sure I was sane. She visited me often and brought me things. She loved me through this entire process. She didn't have too much experience with L & D apart from when her sister was born and when the Boy Wonder was born. She braved the NICU to be with me so I wouldn't have to be alone early on in the process. I will never forget watching her fear melt away once she was able to really see him. She was such a blessing to me.
As I type these things, that voice is constantly correcting me saying "Be thankful that he is here. Stop complaining." That voice isn't my own. It belongs to the person that lives inside that criticizes me for feeling things. I say to that person, "I am not complaining." I am being a real person, with conflicting and real feelings. I overheard someone say recently, "It must be awfully exhausting trying to be someone she's not." The most amazing part of this statement is that the very person spewing these words is the one person that I have watched change to suit the surroundings. So as I stated earlier, I am not going to apologize for honesty. There are many grammatical issues I would go back and change but I have decided to leave this entry unedited. I feel as if the rawness may be less reader friendly but more accurate. My words aren't flowing like they usually do but I am ok with that too!
Love one another. Thank you for all that you have done for us in the past year and 9 months. This journey has been possible because so many of our friends, our created family, have embraced us and helped us get through. We are incredibly blessed by all of you. In this moment, I think of that song from the Sound of Music "Something Good." I have an amazing husband-he not only loves me, he likes me! I know some people that never found that. I have two gorgeous children. I have the greatest support system for which a girl could ask!
"Nothing comes from nothing, nothing ever could. So somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good."
Blessings.
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