I don't have much to report today. Patrick's been something of a pooter-toot this morning (if you haven't heard the term, it's an affectionate way to describe someone being uncooperative and obnoxious). Almost since waking up, he has persisted in whining. He has a cross between "talking" and crying that is his way of expressing displeasure without crying. The more he makes this noise, the more it grates on my nerves. It reminds me of fingernails on a chalkboard, and after hearing only that whine for two hours, I'm about to lose my mind. So instead of continuing to complain about it and make myself more irritated, I'm going to write about something else.
It may just be hormones, but I've found myself more emotional in the last day or two, especially when I hear baby stories, primarily stories of preemie babies. The worst was yesterday when I was supposed to be napping. I was watching one of the many baby shows on during the day, and I ended up bawling through the couple's story of having a baby four weeks early and the baby's stay in the NICU. It brought back so many memories that I had let lie dormant for so long. I can easily live from day to day not ever thinking about how Patrick came into the world, but when I am reminded of that part of his life, the feelings can sometimes be overwhelming. More and more I'm realizing just how much this experience has changed me. I think it is going to have more long-lasting effects on my life than Patrick's. He's already passed so many milestones that turn him into a "normal" baby that I have a feeling by the time he turns one, very few people will guess he was a preemie. Even now, I don't see a preemie when I look at him.
Even when all the outward signs that he was a preemie have faded though, I will always remember. There's something about seeing your long-awaited baby lying so tiny and frail alone in an incubator that will permanently change you. While I don't see that image in my mind constantly, it will flash across Patrick's face when he starts to fall over while trying to sit up or doing something else potentially dangerous. Then I instinctively want to protect him from harm, as though he were still a mere three pounds and helpless. I fear his first illness or boo-boo; but I also fear I will end up too overprotective because of this fear and end up holding him back from growing into an independent boy like he should. I know many parents tend to be overprotective, but parents of preemies are especially prone to this problem. When do we stop telling two ages for our children: he'll be seven months on Sunday, which is five months adjusted age?
I constantly fight with myself about whether I want this whole prematurity thing to be a focus of my life or something I forget, just sweep under the rug. I'm sure there must be some happy medium, but I have yet to find it. It has without a doubt shaped both my life and Patrick's, making him special in just one more way, a true miracle. Because of that, I don't want to ignore it completely. I also don't want this experience to dictate every action and the way I treat him for his whole life. I don't want to justify anything about Patrick, blaming it on the prematurity, even though I know he will likely end up with some minor long-term issues because of it.
I also wonder sometimes if I find myself in this awkward position of wanting to both ignore and embrace the prematurity because I feel somewhat guilty about it. I have fully accepted the fact that this was not my fault and there was nothing I could do to prevent it. Yet I still replay certain parts of my pregnancy wondering if the outcome would have been different if I had done things differently. What if I'd taken prenatal vitamins more routinely, even though they made me sick? What if I'd not been so stupid that night before he was born and accepted that those really were contractions I was feeling? Would they have been able to stop the labor if I'd gotten to the hospital earlier? I have a million questions like this that I know will never be answered, and it's pointless to continue asking them, but sometimes I can't help myself. I know that if I get a second chance, I will do everything I can to do things differently and not let those same issues possibly lead to another premature birth. The last thing I want to do is go through those weeks visiting my newborn baby in the hospital again, even though statistics are not on my side. It is very likely that I will have another preemie, simply because Patrick was born early, regardless of what I do or don't do to try to prevent it. That's not something I want to think about now, but it is in the back of my mind all the time.
Ugh. I've rambled on for too long about the prematurity issue, and I still don't feel like I've really conveyed the thoughts and feelings going through my head. I'm afraid I haven't fully sorted them out myself. That's part of the reason I persist in bringing up the topic; I'm hoping that by forcing myself to think about it enough to type it, I will somehow work out the complexity and understand what it is I'm feeling. I also think that is the reason I'm attracted to websites and stories of other parents of preemies. Perhaps they will give me insight that I can't find on my own. At the very least, they can empathize with me (and me with them) because we've gone through the same thing. There is something even more bonding about parenting preemies than the typical bond of mothers. I suppose that is one of the good effects that has come from having a preemie. I have joined the ranks of mothers everywhere, even making it into that elite group of preemie moms. Becoming part of such universal groups bonds me to other women, providing friends and a support group that I wouldn't otherwise have. I hope I too can be a friend and support for all the new members joining our ranks daily.
As a reward for anyone who made it through that long and tedious post, here are a few more pictures of my special miracle.
Patrick's turning into quite the avid reader already (his mama loves that!). Here he is poring over his newest Dr. Seuss.
Yes, he is sitting up all by himself, and long enough for me to get a picture. He wasn't even leaning to one side yet by the time I had my hands back up to catch him.
It may just be hormones, but I've found myself more emotional in the last day or two, especially when I hear baby stories, primarily stories of preemie babies. The worst was yesterday when I was supposed to be napping. I was watching one of the many baby shows on during the day, and I ended up bawling through the couple's story of having a baby four weeks early and the baby's stay in the NICU. It brought back so many memories that I had let lie dormant for so long. I can easily live from day to day not ever thinking about how Patrick came into the world, but when I am reminded of that part of his life, the feelings can sometimes be overwhelming. More and more I'm realizing just how much this experience has changed me. I think it is going to have more long-lasting effects on my life than Patrick's. He's already passed so many milestones that turn him into a "normal" baby that I have a feeling by the time he turns one, very few people will guess he was a preemie. Even now, I don't see a preemie when I look at him.
Even when all the outward signs that he was a preemie have faded though, I will always remember. There's something about seeing your long-awaited baby lying so tiny and frail alone in an incubator that will permanently change you. While I don't see that image in my mind constantly, it will flash across Patrick's face when he starts to fall over while trying to sit up or doing something else potentially dangerous. Then I instinctively want to protect him from harm, as though he were still a mere three pounds and helpless. I fear his first illness or boo-boo; but I also fear I will end up too overprotective because of this fear and end up holding him back from growing into an independent boy like he should. I know many parents tend to be overprotective, but parents of preemies are especially prone to this problem. When do we stop telling two ages for our children: he'll be seven months on Sunday, which is five months adjusted age?
I constantly fight with myself about whether I want this whole prematurity thing to be a focus of my life or something I forget, just sweep under the rug. I'm sure there must be some happy medium, but I have yet to find it. It has without a doubt shaped both my life and Patrick's, making him special in just one more way, a true miracle. Because of that, I don't want to ignore it completely. I also don't want this experience to dictate every action and the way I treat him for his whole life. I don't want to justify anything about Patrick, blaming it on the prematurity, even though I know he will likely end up with some minor long-term issues because of it.
I also wonder sometimes if I find myself in this awkward position of wanting to both ignore and embrace the prematurity because I feel somewhat guilty about it. I have fully accepted the fact that this was not my fault and there was nothing I could do to prevent it. Yet I still replay certain parts of my pregnancy wondering if the outcome would have been different if I had done things differently. What if I'd taken prenatal vitamins more routinely, even though they made me sick? What if I'd not been so stupid that night before he was born and accepted that those really were contractions I was feeling? Would they have been able to stop the labor if I'd gotten to the hospital earlier? I have a million questions like this that I know will never be answered, and it's pointless to continue asking them, but sometimes I can't help myself. I know that if I get a second chance, I will do everything I can to do things differently and not let those same issues possibly lead to another premature birth. The last thing I want to do is go through those weeks visiting my newborn baby in the hospital again, even though statistics are not on my side. It is very likely that I will have another preemie, simply because Patrick was born early, regardless of what I do or don't do to try to prevent it. That's not something I want to think about now, but it is in the back of my mind all the time.
Ugh. I've rambled on for too long about the prematurity issue, and I still don't feel like I've really conveyed the thoughts and feelings going through my head. I'm afraid I haven't fully sorted them out myself. That's part of the reason I persist in bringing up the topic; I'm hoping that by forcing myself to think about it enough to type it, I will somehow work out the complexity and understand what it is I'm feeling. I also think that is the reason I'm attracted to websites and stories of other parents of preemies. Perhaps they will give me insight that I can't find on my own. At the very least, they can empathize with me (and me with them) because we've gone through the same thing. There is something even more bonding about parenting preemies than the typical bond of mothers. I suppose that is one of the good effects that has come from having a preemie. I have joined the ranks of mothers everywhere, even making it into that elite group of preemie moms. Becoming part of such universal groups bonds me to other women, providing friends and a support group that I wouldn't otherwise have. I hope I too can be a friend and support for all the new members joining our ranks daily.
As a reward for anyone who made it through that long and tedious post, here are a few more pictures of my special miracle.
Patrick's turning into quite the avid reader already (his mama loves that!). Here he is poring over his newest Dr. Seuss.
Yes, he is sitting up all by himself, and long enough for me to get a picture. He wasn't even leaning to one side yet by the time I had my hands back up to catch him. 
This is my favorite picture of yesterday. It looks like he's glaring at the camera, but he was really grimacing some in the sunlight. This is the least squinty picture I got. I thought it was funny that he was wearing his bug outfit and playing in the grass. Someday not too long off, he'll be playing with bugs in the grass instead.
Labels: Feelings, Frustration, Photos
2 Comments:
Kathy reading your post was like writing it myself. I can so relate to everything you said. I feel all of those things as well and I don't think it will ever be possible to just put the preemie stuff behind us. It may ease off a bit but I think it will always be there. I don't know if that is a good or a bad thing. Randie is now 17 months (14 corrected) and I am still the biggest worry wart!! I also worry about being over-protective.. I want her to be able to live her life like a regular baby and I try so hard to treat her like one but it is really hard because I always see her tiny body in that incubator and I dont think that will ever change. Just because Patrick was premature that does not mean he may end up with some minor long term disabilities. I worry all the time that Randie is going to show some signs of some kind of disability but I really need to stop thinking that way. Its just being so paranoid all the time. Anyway this post is becoming a book in itself..lol Once again Patrick looks like such a handsome little man in his new pictures *hugs*
Kathy, I wish you could see you from my point of view. I have watched my little baby girl who was afraid to touch the grass become a beautiful and loving mother with such inner strength. You have a right to have all the feelings you feel - and I'm afraid I'm right there beside you with some of the memories. But I will never be able to totally understand everything you have gone through. You are a wonderful mother and you and Matt have seen that little boy through so much and you never really flinched! You know that if you hadn't done the things you did to protect him before birth, he wouldn't even have arrived safely -- though prematurely. He was the healthiest preemie in the nursery because God was with you all and because you instinctively did everything you could. Some things were out of your control -- and I know how hard that is for you. :)
OK -- enough sappiness. I will say that my favorite picture is the one of Patrick reading. It is the one where he seems the most like his mom.
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