I've become a mother I never thought I would be. Actually, I've become a mother I'm not sure I ever wanted to be. I don't think I really had a choice. What I mean is, I've become the only mother I know how to be. But it definitely isn't what I expected in my life. For my life? This is my life?!
Some statistics:
43: number of years I've been alive
15 (In March): number of years I've been married
12 1/2: number of years of my oldest daughter (SF)
8+: number of years of my youngest daughter (SH)
2: number of years I've been seeing my therapist
1: number of years I've been using pharmaceutical assistance to survive
9 (maybe more): number of diagnoses SF has
6: number of medications SF takes (not counting over-the-counter stuff)
6: number of medical specialists in our current rotation
2: number of times I melt chocolate and crush meds in one day (meds get mixed into chocolate, as SF can't swallow pills).
4: number of surgeries SF has had (2 "major" and 2 "minor")
The decision to have children wasn't a long, drawn-out, well thought plan. We agreed it was time to have a kid, and there you have it. In short order, I was pregnant. I was fortunate to have a blissful, uneventful pregnancy. I even traversed Israel and Petra (in neighboring Jordan) at 7 1/2 months preg. International flight sucks to begin with, but at 7 1/2 months preg, it is akin to living hell.
We came home, resumed daily life, and I was set to have a baby a while later. As my due date approached, we began a conversation about induction. If, by my targeted due date, I didn't have a baby, we would induce on Tuesday, August 1st. Dr. had the day off on Monday, thus the extra day wait. Did you know Tuesday is statistically the most popular day to deliver a child?
My parents flew in the night before. The morning arrived, I was checked in to a local hospital, and we were ready. Ha. Ready. Let me backtrack and say that we had interviewed a pediatrician (nice enough, worked for us), and had asked questions of my doctor about anything out of the ordinary during delivery. I even asked the prospective pediatrician if he would continue to see the child if there were any special needs. 12 1/2 years later I have no idea why I would ask that.
The birth story is a long one. I will detail sometime. For now, the highlights:
8am - check in
10am - break water - oops, no water!
midday - antibiotics in IV, pitocin, epidural
later - push, push, push, lose feeling in legs, turn off epidural, close to passing out, numb, baby stuck
4:56pm - baby sucked out with vacuum
baby not breathing
intubated
bilateral pneumothorax (over inflation of lungs)
discovered something coming out of babies umbilical cord
what the hell is it - a boy or girl??
girl
air evac
surgery
34 days in NICU
years of diagnoses
Like I said, the highlights. Over time I will elaborate.
From that day forward, I became Mama Bear. Never knew I had it in me. Never knew I would need it. Never thought about it. It happened without forethought or intention. Someone had to fight for my kid, so it was me. Someone had to have the calendar to keep track of weekly OT, PT, EI, and weight check appointments. Someone had to find, call, and schedule appointments with new specialists. Someone had to know what the hell was going on.
I don't want to give the impression that SF's dad wasn't involved. I was laid off early in my pregnancy (company didn't know I was preg), and no one would give me a second look once they saw my rotund belly. I was at home; he was at work. The daily parental duties were my responsibility by default. Backtrack for a moment: dad took 8 weeks off work when SF was born. It started as 6 weeks, then was extended when his Grandfather passed away. Dad was involved; we spent 34 days driving to/from the NICU and spending the day there. He was involved.
