When I was in the hospital for those 2 weeks before we had Jack I forced Arch to give me his computer and a wireless card so that I could do research. Honestly, I think that if I had asked Arch to give me his right hand, sawed off at the forearm while I was in the hospital he would have, so “forced” is a bit of a strong word….
Anyway. I needed data when I was on bedrest, I knew that we were headed into uncharted territory. So. I researched. I googled. I used that damn advanced statistics class (FINALLY). I burned up the interweb looking for information that would prepare me to be the mom of a preemie. I read blogs of preemies born 20 years ago who were “just fine.” I found communities that maybe I shouldn’t really have been reading at the time…and I also found some helpful resources.
Every day since we’ve come home, I’ve kept up that research. But that research turned rapidly into a craving for community, to find parents who perhaps share the same worries. Mom’s and Dad’s who have lived through some of those dark days and are still coming out the other side.
I didn’t recognize how alone I felt in all of this until recently. I was at the park with Jack and there was a little 2 year old girl there with glasses. And me, being all self-absorbed and what not, assumed the little girl was a preemie. Not only did I assume this, but I went on and created this 2 minute fantasy that I would have a friend in that mother, someone to talk to about the worry and the guilt and the yada-yada etc. But no. She was just a mom with a little girl who wore glasses. And then I was UPSET. I was upset that the little girl wasn’t a preemie. Can you imagine?! I was wishing that this poor little girl with the glasses was a preemie so that I could make friends with her mom.
Sick and twisted, party of one, right here.
We came home and Jack climbed up in my lap and fed me goldfish while I cried big old dumb tears. Because I am dumb. And he is here and somehow I can time warp to “back there” and dude, wtf already?
And I am working through it. And part of that is just remembering that I am not alone, and actually? it may not be that crazy to want to talk to other people who have lived through something similar.
A couple of weeks ago, reading my normal blogs, people I think of friends, (even though I’ve never met them), I find that one of my friends is part of a new community, “For mamas of still babies, tiny babies, lost potential of all kinds.” and I visited this community, and then I wept. I feel unworthy of these women when I read their stories. I must warn you not to follow this link if you are at work or some other place where bawling openly would be deemed inappropriate. That said, I need to post the link to glow in the woods just in case someone is googling something like “FUCK AND NICU” or some other relevant search term and accidentally landed here. Because maybe they’re searching for someplace safe, and man, do I get how important that is. **
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**I’ve had this post written for about 10 days and have been hesitant to post it. I don’t post most of what I think or feel these days for fear of upsetting some vested constintuent somewhere or another, but this one still felt important 10 days later. So. There you have it.
I am using this as a placeholder so I can remember what Jack was doing when he was 21 months old:
Signing:
“clean up, clean up, everybody, everywhere”
No. Not really. More like “knee up, knee up, mmmboda, eeeewhe” but enough that I woke up signing it my own self.
Dancing:
Specifically to Yo Gabba Gabba - Pajama Party Time, and also? Some Stray Cats.
Playing:
If I have to do the “5 little monkeys jumping on a bed” game ONE MORE TIME, those monkey’s are going to need more than a trip to a doctor… I am just saying.
But the thing is, I work. I work a lot. Like average 16 hours a day, a lot. And it has officially become uncool.
So. I am looking into alternatives.
Firstly, I am attempting to get some help at work, so that I do NOT have to work quite so much…I have little hope that this will happen ’cause me getting help would pretty much rock the worlds of a bunch of other people who could care less that I saw Jack for the first time in 5 days, last night.
So, we are also toying with me not working. Money would be tight, but my stress level, the panic attacks that I feel when I wake up at 4 in the morning wondering what the ‘eff I forgot to do the night before because I was so tired from all the working, yeah, all that shit would be gone. And I suspect I would be a better wife and mother because of it.
I’ve never NOT had a vocation, so the thought of falling into the abyss of stay at home mommydom is terrifying, but I am becoming more and more convinced that having it all is a complete and total myth, like the 50 calorie pinkberry and no pimples after 30. So, if I HAVE to make a choice (and we’re rapidly approaching that point) I happily choose Arch and Jack over my career.
Stay tuned - because something has gotta give, and soon.
EDIT — It was time for a new look around here. Whadda ya think?
Last Sunday was a pretty huge day. First, we went to the Central Park Zoo with Sarah’s cousin Rick and girlfriend and her 2 children. We saw seals, monkeys and of course, the polar bears. Fun was had by all
Then, it was off to celebrate Maddys first birthday, so we hopped in a cab and zipped on over to the westside for some serious partying. There was cake and presents and balloons and balloons and balloons and balloons and balloons, oh did I mention that Jack likes balloons?
We spent part of our weekend in Brooklyn with Jen, Eddie, Mabel & Milo . We were there scoping out neighborhoods and in general just hanging out.
We went out to eat with them at the end of the day on Saturday and enjoyed the phenomon of babies in bars. Quite a lot of babies actually. Two per parent.
We’ve talked about having another baby, joked about, danced around the topic. Arch would love to have a little red headed girl, he says. I even went and talked to a new fancy high risk OB about our risks (this appointment involved me sitting in a waiting room with about 30 perfectly healthy pregnant women, I ended up in a corner metaphorically rocking back and forth.) At the bar in Brooklyn, everyone had two children. There was Nora & Ferdinand, Gordon & Sadie, Mable & Milo, and then there was Jack.
Just Jack.
Part of me has no desire to have another baby. Health risks etc. don’t even factor into this feeling. Honestly, it’s the feeling that I have totally and completely short changed Jack, and Arch, and I need to focus on them 100% of my time (the WOHM ambivalence post is forthcoming). How could I possibly deal with #2?
And then there is the practical part. The part where we know that I fall into that weird and wacky super-high risk pregnancy group. The special group where my OB sat me down and looked me in the eyes and said, “IF you decide to get pregnant again (emphasis hers), you and I will be seeing A LOT of each other.” And then she proceeded to tell me that our risk of a recurring placental abruption was about 10%. Considering that our risk last time was 1% , those odds actually sound pretty shitty. Also? We will likely have the pleasure of hospital monitored bed rest, again.
I feel like I’ve let Arch and Jack down and this weekend really drove the feeling home. We’re three and everyone else is four, or even more (after all, 3 kids is the new 2). WTF.