The other shoe

After Noah's birth I spent the first three months in a fog. I seriously do not remember most of November, December comes in bit's and pieces, and in January the fog started to slowly seep away. I got a massage and facial for my 27th birthday on January 18th and spent the entire time racking my brain regarding info I had recently read on hypoxic ischemic encephalopathy all the while not even knowing if that's exactly what happened to my baby. That was a point where I realized I had hit somewhat of a low. 

I started blogging in february, I had just gone back to work and was starting to become very overwhelmed with my depression ( most of which was truly post partum) and my husbands lack of understanding. I truly felt I had no one to talk to. My co worker who also happens to be a good friend was pregnant and I while she was extremely supportive and understanding, I felt guilty bombarding her with my pregnancy tales of woe. I was also insanely jealous of her ever growing belly and all the promise and excitement that lay ahead of her. My blog became my connection to this universe that I never knew existed, a universe of pain and suffering but also of hope and love. Because Noah was doing extremely well developmentally and not showing signs of CP I began to feel guilty, as if I didn't belong. I felt intrusive and as if it was somewhat inappropriate that I read and comment on these blogs because after all I did not understand what these families were going through.

In march we were referred to a geneticist . This was probably my lowest point because up until then we figured it was a transient birth injury, not something deeper. My pediatrician felt Noah was "too normal" for his "injury" and felt it was possibly metabolic. March and April were horrific for me, waiting for results, wondering, praying, crying.  His metabolic work up came back normal. 

May was a turning point, 6 months, half a year! When Noah was first born I kept making promises to myself like "if we can just make it to 11/10/08 we will be ok". This had been an exhausting year and the half way point gave me some light at the end of a long tunnel. The spring brought with it a renewed sense of hope and my depression began to lift. Noah was still growing, thriving, he was happy, and healthy and despite continued visits to various specialists to "check on him", Noah continued to defy the odds. 

Since I am an anxious, glass half empty type by nature, I continued to worry, research on the internet, freak myself out, and not enjoy the moment. I tried, seriously. I gave it a good fight but my mind always wandered to the "what ifs",  wondering if and when the other shoe would drop.  My husband says I would be like this no matter what, that if Noah had been born without any complications that I would still find something to worry about and he is probably right. But waiting for the other shoe to drop is exhausting. It's defeating. I think this is what I am sad about the most. 

This takes me to my 1st confession. I am selfish. I am starting to realize that most of this is not about Noah, but about me. I have never said this out loud or admitted to it in any fashion, but when Noah was in the NICU and doctors were telling me all this shit about his brain, my first thoughts were that my life was over, not about Noah or the hardships he might face. I felt disgusting that I thought this, but I cried for me, not for him. Now that I have gotten to know Noah, fell head over heels in love with him,  watch his personality unfold, I now worry purely for him and no longer for me.... but still way back when that was my first thought. 

Another confession is that I didn't take any pictures of Noah in the NICU. At the time I didn't want to remember that place and I felt weird documenting it. When a doctor or nurse congratulated me on my baby I got angry...I felt congrats were not in order. Looking back I see how weird this may seem but at the time it's how I felt.  Looking back I feel guilty that I didn't have faith in Noah, that I didn't want to take pictures to show him later on how far he has come. I am trying to put together a little video for his first birthday and it's as if his first days did not exist, as if the rawness and pain in my mind is enough that they did not need to be documented for all to see. 

So I've learned about faith, about miracles, I have learned that I am not exempt from bad things happening, that I am not special. I have learned I am a bit selfish, but also a but selfless. I have learned that I love being a mother, despite all the challenges it has brought.

I never liked surprises, never had much patience to "wait". If anything...this is the biggest lesson of it all, the wait and see part. Teaching me to enjoy the moment, love my guy today and worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.  Obviously easier said than done, but I continue to try.