Since I've been home, I haven't watched a lot of tv. I'm not much of a tv watcher anyway; I opt for education shows mostly, with an occasional episode of 'Friends' or 'South Park' thrown in for fun. Most other tv, I find mindless and boring as hell, mostly. Although, I enjoy movies... but it's rare for me to find something on our pay movie channels that I haven't already seen, and usually seen more than once.
In the past week or so, though, I have found myself turning on the tv more often... after the shooting at Columbine High School in Littleton, CO. I watch it; but it hurts terribly. And I'm not totally sure why I keep watching...
It hurts me deeply on a variety of levels; as a daughter of an elementary school principal who fears for her father, as a friend to many people working in public and private education, as a prospective teacher someday, and as a new mother, terrified of what 'things might be like' when Savannah is old enough to be going to school. Public education has been a part of my life, all of my life... And I can't figure out what in world has happened to children, to all of us in this society, for this to even be something that isn't a first, or even extremely unusual.
It scares me a lot that things seem to have changed so much since I was in middle school, or high school. Not just with mass killings happening at schools, but with everything in general. I had once thought I wanted to be a journalist, but I changed my mind when I saw how journalism... even mainstream journalism seemed to be more of a subjective view of the world, as opposed to an objective. Even I doubt with the events occurring around us, that I could be objective as well.
Wallace has been talking a lot about the shootings, and about violent children in general. It's hard to participate in these conversations, especially with the issue lying so close to my heart. And I also imagine, neither one of us, with our intelligence or personal feelings, could ever come up with a good idea of how to help solve these problems.
'I would never do something to willingly put Savannah in danger...' That was all I could contribute. But we're responsible for making choices for Savannah, as all parents are. I want to make all the right decisions, but I know that I won't. I'm not perfect. And I can only hope that my mistakes are very minor ones.
Being a new parent, the responsibility for a whole other person, beyond myself is paralyzing. I realized this very early on, right after Savannah was born... when she had to have surgery. She had heart-surgery to repair an artery that was underdeveloped, because of her prematurity. She needed to have it done, but there was a risk involved, as with any other surgery. I hardly breathed all day, until we heard from the doctor to tell us that everything had gone perfectly. If something did happen, I would be responsible, along with Wallace. And I'd rather die than be responsible for anything that could hurt my baby.
Getting back to my thoughts on the shootings, I feel greatly that parents are _very_ responsible for their children. And when something like this happens, I can't help but think that something went wrong in the relationship between the children who did this, and their parents. I realize there are other factors involved, but to me, it does come down to knowing your children, knowing what they are doing, what they are interested in, what they think about things. I want to be a friend to Savannah, as well as a parent. And I want to have the kind of relationship where she would always be able to talk to me, no matter what the topic.
I also want her to grow up around other people who care enough about their children to be responsible for them, to teach them compassion and kindness for others, to teach them to communicate properly, to teach them how to go on to be responsible for themselves.
In the confusion and sadness of the shootings in Littleton, CO, I do hope that it can serve to help others to be responsible for their children and love them as much as they can, and remind them of it often.
Beyond being responsible for Savannah, I hope to spend the rest of my life telling her how wonderful she is, how proud of her we are, and how much I love her, even though I will never come close to finding the words to express that feeling. I'm just going to try.
Shortly after Savannah was born, we had a conversation with one of the NICU nurses about things we could do for her while she was there. I had asked if it would be all right to bring her in a stuffed animal of some kind, and leave it in her isolette. That was fine, but the nurse suggested some kind of beanie stuffed animal, since the tiny babies like to feel secure, and since the nurses don't spend all day touching them, they lay the beanies on the babies, to simulate someone touching them. We thought this sounded like a great idea, so we bought her a beanie Classic Pooh.
Pooh has also come in handy for other things, such as propping up Savannah's ventilator tubing, and being our baby watcher when we can't be there. We've mostly decided to stick with one stuffed animal for now... since two of them would be bigger than she is right now.
The nurse had also suggested a picture of us, to put inside her isolette. That was a fairly easy one to accomplish, even though we haven't had a lot of pictures taken of us lately. I did manage to find a nice one of our faces from our wedding, which is taped up for her to see when she's awake.
We are also allowed to bring in some clothing kinds of things, booties or hats mostly right now... so nothing interferes with her wires and tubes. We did buy a set of pink booties and a hat for preemies, but she's just too small for them right now. And they would only serve to remind us just how tiny she really is, so we're holding off on those for right now. They are in my bottle bag, and we'll give them to her when she gets a little bigger.
The neatest thing the nurse had suggested that evening, was a small tape recorder and a special speaker we could get, to put in her isolette. We could record some soothing music, talk to her, sing to her, read her stories. This sounded wonderful, and the idea was mentioned to Wallace's mom on the phone one evening. She volunteered to buy these for us and Savannah.
We just got the recorder and speaker today!
Last night, when we visited Savannah, I spent a lot of time talking to her and holding her hand. Every time I would shift my weight or move, she'd get a very worried look on her face and grasp my finger very tightly. It was as if she didn't want me to leave. I kept whispering to her that I wasn't going anywhere, I wouldn't leave her... and she would relax completely. Of course, I have no idea what she can really understand right now, but it really seemed like we understood each other, and it was extremely important for me to stay there with her, holding her hand. It made me feel wonderful, to think she was listening to me and understanding that I wouldn't go. I can believe she was listening, and that my voice was reassuring to her. I wish I could hold her hand day and night, and just talk to her.
We're both really looking forward to recording some things for Savannah, and having it there for her to listen to during the day when we aren't there. I'm trying to decide what we're going to do or say on the tape, but I'm not totally sure yet. I seem to have forgotten a lot of the children's songs I used to sing at school, but I'm hoping they'll come back to me. And when Wallace and I do sit down to record this for her to listen to, we'll both know exactly what to say.
I think that she'll be reassured and happier, if she knows that she has our voices to listen to, and that her mommy and daddy love her so much, and can't wait until she can be out of the hospital. Then, she'll be able to listen to us all the time; and we'll be able to just listen to her beautiful cry, or just listen to her breathe, in person, all on her own.
I've been thinking a lot lately about how unprepared I was for Savannah's birth. Not just in the personal physical way, but also in the fact that it had just been too early to have gotten ready for her at home. We hadn't bought her any clothes yet, her room is still our study and houses our massive computer setup, and there is no carseat or crib or anything here for her yet.
Supposedly, in the pregnancy books I'd read, the best time to be doing all of this was in the eighth month, just in case your child was the impatient sort and didn't rely on the magical due date. This is also a time of nesting for the mother-to-be, and having missed all these other things, I never made it to that point either.
As I'm feeling better every day, I'm starting to get that nagging feeling of wanting to begin nesting in anticipation of Savannah's arrival home, finally. But, I'm not precisely sure just where to start.
I sit in her room everyday, writing this journal and poking around online, and it doesn't seem right. This is her room, and yet it's not. Honestly, the room is greatly empty right now, save for a filing cabinet, some crates, the gifts she's received, and our big 'ole computer desk. I call it her room, but it just isn't hers yet.
And I hate that...
I truly have not one clue as to when she might be able to come home. I'm shooting for a ballpark estimate, around her original due date. But that relies on the fact that nothing happens between now and then. And peeking at my calendar, that is still about a month and a half away. We could get lucky, and she could do really well, and she could come home before that... but I don't want to get my hopes up, either.
How soon, is too soon? Gods, I wish I had the answer to that question...
Some things, I do realize, I will need to wait for. My father, in his infinite kindness and generosity, has committed himself to building a crib for Savannah. And I don't expect that crib to be making it to Atlanta anytime before the end of the next two months, and quite possibly later than that. And, that's really okay with me.
Wallace and I had decided, even before she was born, that we would be buying some kind of bassinet for her, and that she would be staying in our room for a while after she was born. Now, since I know that she'll still be really small when she comes home, this is even more important now, as well as more practical, since she'll get a lot of use out of a bassinet with her size.
We had also decided before her birth, that the nursery would be decorated with Classic Pooh bedding and miscellaneous stuff. She currently has a small Classic beanie Pooh who stays with her, and watches over her in the hospital. And other than another stuffed Pooh here at home, (which is probably about as big as she is right now), that is the extent of the Classic Pooh stuff we have for her right now.
I want her room to be ready; and I want it to feel like her room too. But, I don't know when is a good time. I also want to know that if she's ready to come home earlier than what I'd hoped for, I won't have to be out for a weekend, going to get everything I'm going to need for her at one time, either. I just don't know what to do.
We tell her every night how proud we are of her progress, how strong she is, how we hope she can continue doing so well... But, not to rush either. We tell her that we want her to be ready to come home. The home for her in my heart was ready a long, long time ago. I just wish I knew when I could make our physical home ready for her too.
When it does happen, when she can come home... it will be the happiest day of my life.
One's inability to be patient is partly a symptom of one's age and maturity and also partly a result of one's upbringing. I can be very patient in some aspects of my life, and running headfirst into other parts. Either one of these, in excess, can get one in trouble. So, finding a balance between the two can pose a challenge. But I am trying to do just that...
I think that many of my expectations of how might life might have been, have changed quite drastically. And this is due to many things, including the birth of Savannah. I had formed ideas in my mind about how soon I might do some things, how my wedding might have been, and what it would be like when I did have children, etc. I'm quite the dreamer, dealing with things like this. I've been imagining these things in my mind, since I was very small. Most things, I've been quite pleased to find out that they've been much better than in my daydreams... But, it's hard for me to be patient about some things, no matter how hard I try.
First of all, I'm extremely impatient about feeling better and recovering from my surgery. It's so difficult for me to want to do things, and not really being capable of doing them, given the limitations I have while I'm healing. I spent a good portion of my weekend cleaning our apartment, for myself and so it would look nice for Maura when she came to visit me yesterday. And, I overdid it. I'm hurting and sore. But, I was glad that it got finished. And it makes me happy that our home looked nice for Maura, as well as now... I'm looking around and things are clean and orderly. And that helps me to feel as if I have some control in my life, when I seem to have such little control over most things.
This is also the same reason that I keep a 'Book of Doom' kind of organizer, a DayRunner brand zippered kind of thing. It keeps things in order, especially when I feel like I have so little control in my life. I've not used it a lot lately, as I don't have much to organize when I sit at home most days, and plan moment to moment what I feel like doing next.
I have listed on my basics page, things which I like and things which I dislike. My lack of control over time is listed with the things I dislike. I keep trying to find some way to control it, but it is something that I will never win. But the struggle does serve to keep things interesting most of the time.
Savannah is another matter, altogether. I'm impatient to be able to hold her, to bring her home, to spend every moment with her. And I can't do any of those things, yet. I know that she is doing well, and mostly just needs time; to grow, to get stronger, to be ready to be home with me. I don't want to rush her, or have her feel rushed because I know that all things come in due time. And right now is just not the time for her. And I hope to have so much more time with her, than this little bit that I need to wait and watch her from afar.
So, I suppose, even if all these other things do drive me quite crazy, I can learn to be more patient for Savannah, and in the long run, it'll make me an even better mom that I think I can be now.
As a whole other personal aside, I had the most wonderful day yesterday. I got to meet Maura in person for the first time yesterday. We shared pictures and talked and talked. She's wonderful, and I'm sooo looking forward to being able to spend more time with her soon.
Also, yesterday, we had a great visit with Savannah. And she's doing so well, with everything. They took her central line IV out, and she's getting almost all of her nutrition from my breastmilk right now. That makes me indescribably happy, and glad that _I_ can be the one to be helping her with that. She's getting more alert and active all the time, and she's so much fun to visit with when she's awake. It's so difficult not to reach into her isolette and pick her up... hold her and kiss her tiny wrinkled forehead and nose. But, it should be soon, as she only has about five more ounces to go, until she's at two pounds and we can hold her. I can't wait!
I'm just counting the hours and minutes, until I can be sitting here in her room with her, instead of with this computer... And, hopefully, it won't be as far away as I might think.
Wallace and I often tell one another of the dreams that we've had... good ones and bad ones. I don't often have dreams that I can remember well. Wallace does a much better job at remembering the details of his and retelling them to me. It's even less often that I have bad dreams that I can remember well enough to recount the details.
I give Wallace such a hard time, since I think he has really strange and far-out dreams most of the time. I do think it has a lot to do with the fact that Wallace has an incredibly creative mind, and develops elaborate stories in his mind. Most of the time, in his dreams, he is merely a spectator, watching events unfold before him. My dreams are usually much more participatory.
I had read in many of my pregnancy books that pregnant women often dream about their unborn children, as well as daydream about them and the like. I expected that I would do this too. Many of these possible dreams were good and bad, as the worry for their babies manifested itself into bad dreams, and hopes for them, into good ones.
I had only one dream of Savannah, during the time I was pregnant. I had forgotten about it, mostly, until I was in the hospital, after having delivered her. I had only told Wallace about it, when I woke up scared, but not understanding my dream. I think I finally understand my dream, or at least most of it. I've never been one to have many premonitions, about anyone or anything. But, I do think this was a premonition to help with the unusual circumstances surrounding her birth.
My dream consisted of a blink-of-the-eye time, in the hospital. I hadn't gone into labor, and I didn't actually 'remember' much of the birth, yet I knew that I had given birth to my daughter. As I was leaving the hospital in my dream, I was given a female child about three years old to take home. Obviously, in the dream, it took me a while to figure out that this beautiful dark-haired little girl, wasn't right. I went back to the hospital to help to figure out their mistake. I explained that this wasn't my child, as I knew I had a baby... The people at the hospital explained to me that, my baby was too small to come home. They didn't want me to feel bad, and go home without a child, so I was given this one. I remember well that there was nothing wrong with my baby, according to the hospital, but only that she was too small...
I hang on to this dream, and think about it almost every day. It does sound difficult to believe, I'm sure. But I did tell Wallace about the dream, right after I had it. I don't know why I dreamed it either, if it wasn't meant to be a premonition. But, I did dream it, and managed to remember it.
I can only wonder now, who that beautiful dark-haired child was that they did give me in my dream. I tend to think, for whatever reasons I couldn't possibly explain... She was a premonition of what our beloved Savannah will look like in a few years. Until then, I can only dream... and wait to see what else I might be told.
Today has been a good day, in lots of different ways, actually...
The doctor called this morning, with a good report on Savannah. She's doing well, he said. They put her back on her feedings again, and they will keep increasing the amounts, as she can tolerate them. Everything else looks good, and at this point, no news is great news for her. As long as things are uneventful, that is the best for her right now. She's doing very well, and her progress makes me very happy.
I had a wonderful phone conversation with Halsted today. We've both been busy and emotionally tied up with Things lately, and hadn't had a good chance to connect on or offline, and just talk. It felt good, and it was definitely a bright spot in my day, since I think that in different ways, we've both been concerned about each other. I'm glad to have talked to her, and eliminate at least a little of the worry I'd been carrying around, about her, anyway. 'Sted tells me that's she's made some progress of her own. And that also makes very happy.
I went to the doctor, to check my blood pressure and make sure that my preeclampsia is still under control. My pressure wasn't great, but it was definitely better than it has been. I'm still on the medicine for it, and hopefully by my six week postpartum appointment, I might not have to take the medicine anymore. So, that is progress for my condition as well. And I'm glad I'm not in as much danger as I had been with the preeclampsia, too.
The progress on my journal entry today, has been a bit slow, as I started this early this afternoon, but it's still progress. Slow or not. That seems to be the consistent factor in all of this today, as I'm thinking about it...
Progress is often a very slow process, but as long as it is progress... it's all good. Whether it's with Savannah, my dearest friends, or myself, slow is just fine. It gives me less and less to worry about, and lots more to be happy about. I know how good it makes me feel to make progress in something, and it makes me feel even better, when I know someone I love is making progress, too.
My kids at school often used to ask me when I was pregnant with Savannah, 'Are you a mommy?'. And my response to them was always, 'Not yet, but I'm working on it...'. Looking back now, I was wrong. I was a mommy. And I only hope to get better and better at being one.
I'm not sure how others define motherhood, although I'll bet it's often a personal definition, rather than one from the dictionary. As I'm also sure that different mothers, themselves, would describe it in different ways.
Oh, how subjective everything is... and how hopelessly inadequate words can often be.
I hope to be a 'cool mommy', but I'm not sure how one might go about this. You know, you had the friends, like in high school, who seemed to have the coolest parents. They were so totally cooler than your own, or so you might have thought at the time. And, I'd like to strive for something similar to that. But, now that I'm an adult... I think my parents are cool as hell. I couldn't see it before. And they are some of the very best friends I have in the world, as well as being my parents. So, I guess am striving for the one-in-a-million kind of mother, who happens to be cool all the time, and not only after twenty-some years and all the rest.
I'm such the idealist, as I'll bet a lot of other first-time mothers are, but... who cares. Maybe I can actually pull it off. And that would be very cool, to me at least.
But honestly, mommyhood is scary and frustrating and confusing a majority of the time. There are countless of not-so-nice things that go along with it. But, there are also the fantastic, magical and marvelous things, too. It's such a balancing act, a constant conflict for mommies (and daddies, too). And the good things, are so beyond good... I can take the bad ones, too. But, that's a skill of mommyhood I definitely need to work on.
I expect that when all of this mommy-limbo stuff is over, I will be a better mommy than most. Since I know I will sincerely appreciate the fact that I'm lucky enough to be bringing home this beautiful and tiny phenomenon. And that, because of her, I will be the best mommy I can be. And hopefully, she'll come to decide one day, that I'm as cool as I think she is... We'll just have to see.
I get frustrated really easily sometimes, mostly with myself and sometimes with those closest to me. That isn't fair. And it makes me angry that I do it in the first place. And right now, with all that's going on... I'm probably even more easily frustrated than ever in my life.
I don't know what to do about it. Any suggestions? Anyone? Anyone, please?
As I write this today, I'm still waiting for the doctor to call about Savannah. This frustrates me to no end. She had a problem with her feedings yesterday, and they had to stop them. And for the first time, yesterday, we weren't at the apartment to get the doctor's call. And the message he left was a bit confusing, which only served to make me worry again like crazy. Later on, in the afternoon when we got back from our errands, I called the nurse on duty to see if I could glean a better explanation from her... And it did help, a bit. Although, right after I got off the phone with her, I called my mother, almost 900 miles away, for a shoulder to cry on.
I needed it. I often find I need to cry, even though I don't let in to it as much as I probably should... So, when it does come, it's often a lot to take.
I cry a lot; actually, I probably cry too much. I cry at almost everything; books, commercials, and frustration often drives me to tears. I'm too emotional, so much so that I take everything in and feel all of it. I feel deeply for anyone or anything I love. I probably do this because I want to take away everyone else's hurt or problems, and carry them myself... as if, in some way, that might help them. I wish helplessly that it did.
So, I get frustrated, and I'm short with people, rude to them, angry with them... All the time, these are people I love. I want to not do that. I want to be better. And I'm always so sorry when it happens, but it's hard to admit it afterwards sometimes.
So, today... I write all of this, in part because, I want to apologize fully and loudly to anyone and everyone I've gotten frustrated with lately. I'm trying very hard to get better about it. And I don't want to hurt anyone that I care about. Know how sorry I truly am.
The doctor has called, and that has relieved a bit of frustration of the day. They are taking care of her problem; thankfully, it's not a serious problem, and they do always act quickly to 'head off' anything before it really becomes a problem. And I'm so glad that she's well taken care of there.
Savannah has gained a bit of weight since she was born. She's up to a whopping 1 pound, 10 ounces... Only 6 more ounces to go, until I can hold her on a more regular basis. And I'm looking forward to that immensely. If you could, keep cheering for her and hoping for her and thinking about her. I know that it helps her more and more all the time. And every ounce gained, and every triumph accomplished by her is another tiny step closer to coming home to us finally, where she belongs.
Among the assorted uncommon beliefs I've come to hold during my lifetime, one of the strongest ones I possess is in fate. I feel that about half of what happens to someone in their life is fate, and the other half is free will. It's my opinion, that fate serves to teach us lessons that we may not have learned otherwise, on our own. Or, at least that's what I believe.
When I was nineteen years old, I was involved in a really serious car accident; one in which I probably should have been killed. My free will had me doing things that I shouldn't be doing, and my fate took over to make sure I got the attitude adjustment that I needed. I realized that I must have 'other things to do' in life, and my fate was not to lose my life then. It was a scary lesson, but one I do wholeheartedly believe I needed at the time, with the self-destructive path my free will had taken on.
Now, seven years later, I've begun to examine other events in my life which made no logical sense at the time, bad things, unpleasant things and good things and seen how they have affected other areas of my life, my relationships, my values, etc. When one is in the middle of a lesson from fate, it's almost impossible to see the justification for such a difficult real-life allegory. Ah, hindsight... Oh well.
Wallace and I were watching a rerun of a fairly popular sitcom the other evening. There was a comment made about babies that really stuck out to me, and rang true for a few different reasons. The couple on the show was talking about the impending arrival of their first child into the world, and the woman stated that she had heard that 'all babies choose their parents'. And I, believing in reincarnation, could completely relate to that. And then she asked, 'I wonder why our baby chose us?' And that question is one I've been pondering internally since hearing it.
I mean, I'm so thankful for my parents, whether I chose them or not. Although, right now, I don't think I would have picked any other parents, had I the chance. If I did indeed choose them, I think I made a good choice. And I'd also suppose that some of the bad parental choices one might see in life, with other children, might be some kind of cosmic retribution for past lives gone awry. Could be. I'm not sure.
But, I mean... Why us? It feels good to be _chosen_ for something like this, whether or not that is the way it is. I think that we need Savannah, as much as she needs us. She is our fate, as we are hers.
I've watched how, in the past two weeks since she was born, Wallace has become a wonderful daddy. I can't even describe how that fills me with joy. I can only hope that I can be the mommy that Savannah needs and wants. I'm ready and willing to try harder at that than anything else I've ever undertaken in my life. I do fully realize I won't be perfect, and I don't expect my dear Savannah to be perfect either. But, if this is our collective fate, I think we're already off to a really good start.
Since her arrival in our lives was our fate, I believe... now begins the choices of free will. And I can only hope that we have enough wisdom and confidence to make the right decisions from this point on.
And I'm so thankful that it wasn't my fate to die in that car accident seven years ago. I'm glad my fate was to be Savannah's mommy, instead...
I don't want to be afraid to hope too much. Wallace has encouraged me daily that I need to be as wide open to hope as I am in the love I feel for Savannah. But, the truth be told, I'm afraid. I'm so scared most of the time, I can hardly see straight or breathe. My hope and my fear run mostly parallel to one another, so neither one of them wins out for very long over the other. It's constant internal turmoil, and it's horrible. I don't suggest it for anyone...
There are so many reasons for me to feel either one at any given time. And being alone at home, is hardly any way to escape the battle going on inside my head. I'm quite sure, that one of the most paradoxical capabilities of man, for good and bad, is the ability to think. And I have come to realize that diversion is hard to come by, at home alone, all day long.
Relief usually comes in two ways. The first is the happy diversion of having Wallace home with me, to be silly, to hug me, to talk to me. And the second, is actually being in the NICU, touching and talking to our beautiful Savannah. These are the times that I am happiest in the day, but I have so many other hours to struggle with my mind. And, the conflict wears me out completely in the course of a day. I hardly recognize my own face in the mirror, as much as it seems I've aged in the last two weeks.
But... I want to hope, so much more than I want to fear. I want to imagine her here at home with us, waking us up in the middle of the night because she's hungry. I want to worry about how in the world I'm ever going to teach her how to use the toilet. I want to cry as she goes off to her first day at school, smile when she loses her first tooth, laugh as I watch her catch raindrops on her tongue. I want to stay up nights with her when she has a cold, and snuggle with her some night when she crawls into bed with us after a bad dream. I want to be a good mom, and I want to be her best friend as well. I want to hope, for all of these things... But, I don't know anything right now. Nothing is certain, not one thing in my life at all. And, I don't even know if she'll be coming home, for sure. But, I do hope for all of these things.
I don't like spending my days being afraid, but I do love to hope. And when I look into her beautiful blue eyes, the hope finally wins, if only for that moment. And that is how I manage to get out of bed in the morning, and struggle through another day... for the hope that will win me one more day closer to having Savannah home with us, finally, where she belongs.
I don't even know if I could name all the surprises that I've had since Savannah was born, not even including her very unexpected birth. Most have been good ones, some not as good. Depending on how one looks at them. I guess what has surprised me the most is the way that people react or reacted to her unforeseen arrival.
But honestly, people surprise me all the time. I wonder in the dynamics of the people that I know, how they act toward me, what interests them and what does not... I wonder about people in general, as well. I'm such a people-watcher. And people continuously surprise me.
I've met people, who I would have otherwise not met because of Savannah's arrival. And I'm not just talking about doctors and nurses, I mean people here on the Internet. A few people, who picked up on a word or two regarding Savannah's birth, who were interested in sending her good thoughts, prayers and support. People who wish me well, hope that I'm all right, tell me to be strong and how they can relate (in different ways) to what I'm going through right now. I'm so thankful for those people. And I've been known in the past to be very cynical about people and their interests and their agendas... But still, I've met some curiously generous people, if only with their time and kind words, who somehow help me to get through my days. Thank you, to any and all of you, who happen to be reading this. As I keep repeating in my daily emails, I appreciate you all more than you'll ever know.
My family has been wonderfully supportive and interested. I'm also so glad that my parents were here right after she was born. They both helped Wallace and I keep things together. Helped with much more than they know. I'm lucky to have the family that I do, and I hope to never even think of beginning to take them for granted, ever.
Wallace's family has been great too. I've loved this time; being pregnant with Savannah, and her birth, because this is his family's first grandchild, as well as our first child. And, it's been a magical time for all of us.
I have also made a new friend, which started briefly before Savannah was born. And I think... I hope... that will turn into a great friendship as well. She walked into my life at just the right time, filled me with wonder, filled me with her kindness and interest in Savannah. I'm very hopeful that we can work through our difficult schedules to be able to meet in person. I find her appearance in my life to be quite a surprise, and her kindness and interest in me and my family to be quite splendid. Ms. M, I do think you feel the same. And I'm thankful for the surprise of our new friendship.
And then, there are those whose responses I didn't expect at all. And that makes me indescribably sad. And I don't quite know how to deal with that. People I've known for a long time; people I would have hoped for different reactions. I can hope that this surprise is temporary, but I'm not really sure that it is. Savannah is definitely the marking of a turning point in my life, but I'm hoping that it's not the beginning of the 'phasing out' of other things in my life.
She's an enrichment, an addition, a marvelous bonus in my life. I would hate to have to lose some things in my life, just because I was gaining her. That's definitely a surprise I don't want to happen... But one I will have to deal with, if it comes down to it. Here's to hoping for no more unpleasant surprises.
'Rest', the doctors tell me.
I don't know how to even begin to explain how hard this is for me to do... I mean, it's not like I'm any kind of health junkie, or exercise fiend by any stretch of the imagination. But, even when I was pregnant and working, and I'd happen to not be feeling well and staying home, I'd usually do something. I feel if I'm not working, I need to do something, i.e., wash dishes, do laundry, clean the bathroom. And right now, between feeling completely incapable of helping Savannah, and feeling helpless and not doing anything at home, I've concluded that I'm completely useless anywhere. I'm not any good for myself, or anyone else around me. I'm just not contributing anything right now. And I hate that.
I mean, if things had gone as planned, I would have had Savannah to bring home with me... Caesarean incision or not. And I would be at home, caring for her.
In all of my daydreams of finally having our baby, I never imagined that I'd be coming home from the hospital alone. And I hate this too.
I'm in mommy-limbo; expressing breast milk into bottles to save for her, since she can't digest anything yet, receiving gifts for her at home while she's in the hospital, and gazing at the cute little sign we got from the hospital, that proclaims, 'It's a girl!', and I'm not sure when I might be able to put it at our front door. And I won't feel whole, until she's here at home where she belongs. Even now, I'm sitting in her room. And it feels very empty without Savannah being here, like I do. But, even as selfish as I'm sounding, I do know that coming home later with my baby is infinately better than not being able to come home with my baby at all.
I feel so guilty. It was my body that failed Savannah, and because of me that she needs to struggle so much now. It is my fault that she is breathing with a tube, and that she has to be in a device that keeps her warm, because she can't stay warm on her own. It is because of me and my inadequate body, that she has to be poked and prodded and hurt, just to be sure that she's okay. I never wanted to hurt my child, but I have. And it is my fault that she hurts everyday.
It is also because of me and my body's failure that Wallace has to work so hard. He is making up the money and work that I can't do. He's taking care of me at home, when he isn't working. He's been through so much, because of me as well. I never wanted to hurt him either, and yet I do, everyday with all of this.
I don't know how long it might be until Savannah can come home. I can only hope that all the healing I need to do is finished by then. Healing is slow and very difficult, especially when what needs to heal is more than just me or the incision on my belly.
When I was in college, I was so not a morning person. I loved to be up late, sleep late, and completely miss the mornings. As I got older, I came to realize that I liked the evenings to myself, and didn't want to have to worry about what others might require of my evenings. I used to loathe having to work in the evenings. Which, in the hideous retail industry, is essentially required. Ahhh, but I did my damnedest to find a way out of that one... And ended up with the earliest shifts imaginable. That was the tradeoff for having my evenings to myself. So, through quite painful reorientation, I 'became' a morning person.
And, unbelievably... I've even converted Wallace to the early morning toleration, and he is still definitely not a morning person. But he agrees with the motto of, 'the earlier I go, the earlier I can go home...' And now, I mean, we have our evenings to look forward to spending with our daughter in the NICU. And that is top priority these days.
So now, I'm beginning to dislike mornings again... Because, mornings are now times waiting for the doctor to call with his update. And disliking this is truly silly, since if something were to go wrong, I'm very sure it won't be during the doctor's morning rounds when he usually calls the house. It will be in the middle of the night, when we have both managed to fall into REM sleep for a change, or it will be when we have decided to take a walk away from the phone, or go to the grocery store for coffee. It just won't be, when I expect him to call. But, I still don't like the waiting.
At least this morning, I'm not waiting alone. It's nice to have Wallace here, even if he has rented N64 for the weekend, and is sitting in front of the tv. He's still not dressed yet, but gods, on a Saturday... I think he deserves it. He's been working all week, AND dealing with this stuff too. And he's so sweet to watch while he's playing; like a little boy. I just can't complain about it, even if I wanted to.
I'd never be here, if not for Wallace. I'd never have made it this far. He is the most wonderful father and husband, and the best friend I've ever known. And I'm so lucky to be able to watch him play N64, right before noon on a Saturday, not yet dressed, in our home together. I try to tell him often, but I don't think he'll ever understand just how lucky I feel.
Even though the doctor hasn't called yet, I know that Savannah is all right. Don't ask me how I know... I'm a mommy now. And I don't know how I know half the stuff I do.
We are hoping to inquire around about getting a pager, this weekend. As we're scared to death about being unreachable, if something were to happen. I'd never be able to live with myself if I were unreachable. But, it's difficult being tied down to my apartment, when I do need to find a way to normalize my life again... Grocery shop, pay bills, get a haircut, etc.
The doctor just called, and everything is all right for today. A few things are changing, but she's still doing really well, as far as he says. Trying a new breathing tool, working on feeding her again. So, that's all okay for this morning.
Now comes the wait for tomorrow morning...
It's been a week since I came home from the hospital. One week since my parents were here. I thought I would be so glad to have time off finally, after the baby came. But, I'm not... well, not exactly, anyway. I have too much time to think, to be alone, to worry. Too much time.
I looked it up in my Webster's New World Dictionary, Time... There are eleven definitions listed just for its use as a noun. And millions of others, depending upon who you ask to define it on the street. I've been thinking a lot about Time lately; what it is and what it means...
When I found out I was pregnant, oh, how time took on such a new meaning! We had been trying to get pregnant for a while, and I felt I was physically, emotionally and mentally ready to be a mother. The first day of November was when I found out I was pregnant. It took three tests for me to 'be sure' it was accurate and it was one of the most wonderful days of my life. It was so amazing to me that there was another person growing inside me. From that point on, being the carrier of another little person, I never allowed that thought to leave my mind, awake or asleep. For very excited first time mothers-to-be like me, I'm sure this is not at all unusual.
Pregnancy defines time in a while different way. You count the weeks; this defines you and your baby. Certain things are supposed to happen by or around each week. Every week becomes a milestone, each day closer to the doctor's 'due date'. This also is a great way to prepare yourself for having a baby, as long as you and the baby stick to the schedule. But, even things that are supposed to be on a schedule, don't always remain that way... Trains, dentist appointments and pregnancies.
This wasn't the Right Time. Neither the baby nor I were ready. But there were no choices; no more time for lazy leisurely choices. It was Right Now or, the completely unthinkable. No more Time.
Hurry up! Do this Now! Here we go...
I'm scared, oh gods, so scared... More scared than I've ever been in my life. Not scared for me - for the baby inside my belly... No more Time.
I can't see anything, so I listen. I'm crying and I'm shaking. I look to Wallace, and there he is... Holding my hand, looking into my terrified eyes, giving me as much love and support as he can.
Help me! Help me make it through this...
Finally, between the beeps and suction noises and talking in the operating room, I hear a little cry. My baby. My little tiny baby from inside me; I can now hear a little tiny cry. I think feverishly, 'if the baby's crying, that's good... good to hear the baby cry'.
Wallace is told to stand up, to peer over the sheet to see our baby, and he does. He asks if we have a boy or a girl. But I know; I've known all along... Pause. It's a girl. Wallace and Lara, meet your new daughter, Savannah Noelle. Smiles, finally. More tears. Relief, for now.
Now, Time to wait and worry and hope.
And to love. All my love and time for my precious tiny wonderful beautiful daughter, Savannah Noelle.
...And so that is how she came to be, and why I'm so happy and scared and overwhelmed and worried.
Actually, Savannah has done quite well in the ten days she's been outside of me. She's had so many advancements, and very few setbacks. She's a wonderfully strong little girl.
Savannah Noelle Beeson was born Tuesday, 30 March 1999, at 1:34pm. She weighed one pound and six ounces, and measured twelve inches when she was born. She is the most beautiful baby I've ever seen.
It's only been ten days since she was born, and I can't remember what it was like to not have her in my life. And I never want to imagine what it would be like to not have her in my life again... She's my love and my life, and we're both so lucky to have her. And we can't wait to have her home with us, always and forever.