For a few weeks now, I've been thinking about doing a post about all the things we've missed out on because of the premature birth. I have hesitated, partly because I'm too tired to report anything but the facts, and partly because I generally try to keep things positive and not wallow in self pity. But last night when I went to the Labour and Delivery waiting room to get a glass of water I saw a set of thrilled grandparents happily awaiting the arrival of their newest family member, and I was taken aback by emotion. So here are some of the things that we have missed out on through this crazy experience. Clearly, the babies' health is the most important item on that list, but I've been posting about that one for months, so here's a few of the more trivial (yet clearly not trivial to me) items:
1. A term twin pregnancy. I wanted to see what I looked like pregnant with twins. I wanted everyone else to see what I looked like pregnant with twins. I was ok with getting fat and waddly and gaining 50 lbs, not being fairly small and flat in bed with pajamas and bad hair.
2. Happy contractions. Ok, contractions never feel good, but when you start having contractions and/or your water breaks and you know "this is it!" that should be a happy feeling. Not fear of the worst, wishing there was something, anything, you could do to keep them in longer
3. A calm delivery. I, like most other moms, did not want a c-section. A "normal" c-section I would take however, compared to being rushed to the OR in a state of utter chaos. Realizing that my pain and fear and well being were really last on everyone's priority list (including my own) was frightening. And then there's those minutes I laid awake before I was put under, while they frantically prepared for the boys' arrival and I contemplated their future - I shudder at the thought.
4. A delivery with dad present. In addition to my own mental and physical state, I was distraught about the fact that Jordan was not with me. I was in complete terror and all I could think was that he was not going to be there to witness his sons being born. I can't even imagine what he was thinking knowing what the boys and I were going through and he was not allowed to be there to hold my hand and see for himself what was happening. Each of us went through the worst minutes of our lives, alone.
5. A happy waiting room, as mentioned before. Unlike those grandparents I saw last night, I had terrified family members awaiting news that they weren't supposed to hear for months.
6. Meeting the babies. A dad should not have to meet his children for the first time seeing them rushed down the hallway, surrounded by medical staff, being bagged. He should watch them take their first breath, hear them cry, and then cut the cord. And a mom should not have to see her children through glass, hours after they are born, wheeled into the NICU on a stretcher in a daze of anaesthesia and morphine.
7. Elated phonecalls to friends and family. Communicating the news that our kids were 3.5 months early and gravely ill was not something Jordan could have enjoyed. Receiving that news was not something I can imagine any of you enjoyed either.
8. Breastfeeding. Pumping does NOT equal breastfeeding. Pumping sucks more than you can imagine. I despise the pump and can't wait till I can feed the boys the way I was meant to.
... you get the drift.
I could go on, but I'm not going to. Enough wallowing. The harder thing is that accompanied with all those feelings of being ripped off, there are feelings of guilt that I should NOT be thinking of this stuff and should only be concentrating on the boys and the hell they're going through, not my own. But you know what, I think I'm pretty normal to feel this, and really at the end of the day who is going to remember this period clearly? The boys? Thankfully NO. Us. Jordan and I have to live with these memories forever, and while I'm sure they'll fade, I'm also sure I'll spend the rest of my life with constant reminders of this scary time. So for that, I'm allowed to feel sorry for myself.
I could go on, but I'm not going to. Enough wallowing. The harder thing is that accompanied with all those feelings of being ripped off, there are feelings of guilt that I should NOT be thinking of this stuff and should only be concentrating on the boys and the hell they're going through, not my own. But you know what, I think I'm pretty normal to feel this, and really at the end of the day who is going to remember this period clearly? The boys? Thankfully NO. Us. Jordan and I have to live with these memories forever, and while I'm sure they'll fade, I'm also sure I'll spend the rest of my life with constant reminders of this scary time. So for that, I'm allowed to feel sorry for myself.
Big breath. That felt good.
PS - the boys are hanging tight. Asher is back on prongs, but prongs are ok. They're not CPAP, that's all I care!
Good to get that stuff out of your system Tracey. Better out than in as the boys thought too!
ReplyDeleteKirsten xox
I too had an emergency section with our premature son and was put "under". We too went through that terrifying time alone and I too weas wheeled in the NICU laying on a stretcher in a drug induced state to look at our son through glass. I understand your emotions all too well and even 2.5 years later it still haunts me. The memory is somewhat faded but never gone. It will get better - I promise. You are probally going through a lot of guilt right now, but as I learned (slowly)you can't beat yourself up over it. What happened happened and you just have to make the best of it by getting through each day at a time. I think you are incredibly strong. Stay positve, but also allow yourself to break down when you need to.
ReplyDeleteA.
GOOD ON YA FOR VENTING TRACE.THANKS FOR THE WINDOW INTO THE PAST AND PRESENT.LOVE FROM THE MAINLAND.
ReplyDeleteC
Had to comment on this one. WOW. I could have written this post almost to the letter. We were pretty lucky that my husband was with me for the delivery. I remember that moment so clearly. We held hands (all 4 hands all jumbled together) and didn't even speak...just looked at each other and kept on squeezing each other's hands.
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