The weird thing about not posting is that then it just feel awkward to post. Like, hi! How are you? I am still here, but life is placid. October is very busy, in a sense, now that we've gotten to the middle of the month. We went to a wedding today (for my dear friend SG) and this upcoming week is the first we'll have with Thomas being back in Mother's Morning Out and speech, too. (His speech therapist got married last weekend and was on her honeymoon. It's wedding season!) Next weekend we're sending Thomas off with Lovie and Gramps so we can celebrate OUR anniversary. (FIVE YEARS!) Then, I'll head out on the 20th for Squam by the Sea.
I can't believe it's finally here. October is feeling better than Christmas, I tell you.
I need to get away more than you can know. It's not that I am burnt out, or tired of my responsibilities or time with my boys. It's just that I need a fresh perspective, a change of scene. I need to be with other women in the worst way - and to talk about something else rather than our kids. (Even though I really do LOVE talking about children and all they involve.) I need to stir up my creative juices so badly. I need a fire lit under me! I'm looking for revival!
Another concern that's been in my mind a lot lately is thinking and praying for babies. Many of you know Liz ; I have read her blog for years. While we're not close, I admire her work and words and all the ways she creates beauty. When she wrote about her sweet baby Ellie Jane having heart surgery, I was terribly concerned. Then, a former coworker of Beaux's ended up in the hospital, pregnant with twins, with one her waters broken at 27 weeks. (She welcomed her twins last night; they're doing well at 2 pounds each!) I keep up with her through Facebook, and have enjoyed and rejoiced over her joy at being pregnant with her long-awaited babies. All I have to do is think about either of these situations and the tears start flowing.
I still just cannot handle the whole NICU issue. I feel like such a drama queen when I reference Thomas' stay, because I know lots of infants do time in the NICU. It almost seems normal and not so scary, because we hear about it so often. (But being airlifted? That's really special, right?) But all anyone has to do is mention the NICU and I want to cry. I fully understand that our four day stay seems barely worth a mention, when there are children who stay for months and months. But we all know there's no suffering Olympics, and in many ways, I'm grateful for our experience, because it helps me understand others' paths so much more. Just the whiff of hospital soap or the crackle of a blue protective gown and I'm back, with my pink flipflops on, my heart pounding as I pass row after row of babies in isolettes.
That said, it also still makes me sad. As happy and excited I am to see anyone have a healthy baby and birth (and I would never hope for ANYTHING ELSE, ever), for a long time, it hurt to see those happy family pictures in the hospital (so ubiquitous on Facebook, especially). Everyone crowded around the hospital bed, all the family members taking turns holding the new baby, just so normal and uncomplicated and beautiful.
I felt absolutely cheated of the normal birth experience I expected. I still don't know if I'll ever have one - and that's okay, now that I know what to expect. I have bittersweet memories of Thomas being in the NICU. It was our journey, and God knows I was sustained and deeply at peace during it, at the same time, I wanted to take my baby home. Now. Yesterday. And the whole time, we were surrounded by tiny babies, babies with issues that weren't going to be solved with a couple of blood and platelet transfusions. Babies without a whole team of people to sit by them and hold them and love them, like Thomas had.
So when I hear about someone else going through a similar experience, even more serious experiences, I cry. I cry because my heart is tender and because babies are so precious and having to wait nearly 24 hours to hold your baby seems endlessly cruel. I cry because it's a miracle that we have the capabilities to keep these babies alive and breathing, to know that one day, they're going to take their first steps and smear sweet potatoes on the walls and break our hearts in a thousand new ways. I cry because life is so uncertain and precarious and I can't think about what's around the dark corners. And yet, I have an inexplicable faith. And I know there's a giant shoulder of Goodness that goes with you around those dark corners.