Reflection

It's obviously been awhile and I've thought about tons of things to write about, but none of it seems that important.

Most of the time it doesn't seem important because doing the dishes and laundry, and most of all caring for my kids, trumps everything. Then other times it's not important because writing about a recipe on a blog just seems stupid when compared with having had your newborn in the NICU for the first month of their life.

Patrick has been living outside of the NICU for almost 4 months, but I'm still brought back to that place often. Not physically (thank you, God), but I'm mentally drawn back nearly everyday.

[I do a fair amount of living in my head. It's bound to happen when you don't have a car and don't know anyone in walking distance. Some days I visit our property manager just to talk to an adult other than my husband. She's very nice and is more than happy to just sit and talk about the boys.]

I am mostly reminded everyday about how lucky we were with both boys. I never worried that Patrick wasn't going to make it. When I saw him and heard him cry before they took him to the NICU, I knew that he would be alive. I didn't know what his life would be like, but I was sure he was going to be alive. (David thinks I'm in complete denial about my feelings on the matter, but I think he forgets how strong my optimistic side is).

I spent a lot of time in the NICU worrying about the other babies. Many were either born much earlier than he was or required much more care because of a condition they were born with. I worried most about the babies whose parents couldn't be there all the time and the babies that cried a lot (I hate to jump to conclusions but it's almost guaranteed some were babies born addicted to drugs and my heart would break for them), because who was going to hold them and tell them it was going to be okay?

But some days my thoughts turn negative and I lose my optimism. I find it very hard to hear about his peers meeting milestones. Even though I know my five month old is really like a three month old and even though I know it usually all works about by the time preemies turn two, I can't help but worry. I know it's a normal mom thing to do, but I hate worrying about things that are out of my control. Where's the sense in that? I know there is a chance for developmental delays simply because he was premature, but I also know there's a chance for delays because of the brain bleeds he had when born (a normal thing that happens and the amount that occurred was within a range where in most babies it doesn't create any issues). 

All we can do is wait and see, trust our instincts, and the doctors to spot any delays and issues as they arise, but most importantly we need to rejoice in what he can do.

So this Mother's Day, I will be thinking of those mothers that are spending their day in the NICU with their heads full of worries and their hearts full of love.