Sunday, July 24, 2011

"Healthy Baby"

This post is just to clear my head.  Its more of a journal entry than anything else.  I'm so exhausted and filled with concern that I can't even think straight.  Hopefully spilling it all here will give my mind a break.

You know that phrase when a pregnant woman gives the correct answer in response to the common question of which gender of baby she prefers, and she answers, "I don't care as long as the baby is healthy."  I gave that answer.  I made sure not to be too greedy and to really be able to accept either a boy or a girl with a happy heart.  I actually meant it.  How about this?  How about if your baby isn't healthy?  Then what?  Then that whole saying isn't really adequate, is it?  What if your baby comes out and can't breathe or has a crappy set of lungs- those super important organs necessary to breathe which in turn are necessary to live.  What if you have to watch your baby struggle for a month in the hospital not knowing for a couple weeks if he will even live?  I guess that makes that question about gender a bit less important.  Maybe we should be asking tougher questions.

My heart could quite possible explode from the love I have for this child.  Never in my life did I dream I would have a baby that wasn't "perfectly healthy."  The perfect part he has nailed down, the healthy part we are still working on.  I cannot believe I was naive enough to just assume that my baby would be healthy.  Maybe it was arrogance assuming those things wouldn't happen to me.  Whatever it was, it was wrong.

I would like to just be able to get over this whole experience.   Move on. Thank God that its over...which I do.  The only problem is that it doesn't really feel over yet.  Yes, I am confident he will live and I will be forever grateful for that because not only do I love him, I need him.  He is part of my soul and I wouldn't be complete without him.  Here is the problem, he struggles.  It's hard to watch.  He doesn't always breathe normally.  He breaths way too fast- almost panting at times.  His chest rises and contracts too far and he doesn't always look comfortable. I am used to this and actually pretty immune to it.  It's always brought to my attention when someone else holds him and it reminds me that he isn't like my other babies.  That his normal isn't really all that normal.  Last week reminded  slapped me in the face.  Easton got sick.  He caught a viral infection (clearly a stomach bug) that nobody I know has.  I should add that this kid is pretty sheltered.  Very few people get to touch him and he isn't around all that many people- WAY less than my other babies were. Anyways, this shouldn't be a big deal.  Happens to everyone.  Well, it was a big deal.  He got dehydrated enough in 12 hours to spend 3 days in the hospital.  His breathing was extremely fast and labored.  His coloring was terrible and he even turned totally white on me twice.  Really?  For a stomach bug.  Is this really how his body is going to respond when he gets sick?  Is this going to happen every time a germ blows by him?  If so, this is a long road.  My heart hurts for him.  It's no wonder he isn't the happiest baby on the block- his life isn't easy.  Thats the other hard part.  I spend all my time trying to make his world a better place.  I try so hard to make him smile, make him comfortable, make him feel the love.  I'm just not sure I am getting through to him yet.  I won't give up, I'm pretty persistent.  He'll get there.  He has no choice.

  My emotions change on how I feel about the situation.  Sometimes I am mad that this happened to my family.  I feel like I got screwed out of the first month of my sons life.  Sometimes I am sad.  So sad that he went thru so much and I am not even sure how much he felt, how much pain he was in or if he was scared.  Sometimes I'm grateful.  Grateful that I have this experience to change me into a better person.  There is only one thing that doesn't change and its that I know Easton was meant for me.  I know I'm supposed to walk thru this with him.  I know I'm supposed to help him and protect him and make him smile.  I'm supposed to make sure he is OK.  Lately, its feeling like a lot of pressure.  Like the whole world is on my shoulders.  I'm usually pretty level headed and can handle the pressure.  I'm not gonna lie,  I feel a little scared. Maybe a little out of my league.  It's funny I feel that way now that we are on the mend.  Well, thats what they say.  They say we are recovering.  You know, out of the woods.  I still feel a little in the woods.  Maybe I am paranoid.  Wouldn't you be?  The image of them intubating my son, the image of them bagging him as he lay limp, the image of his body so swollen from the medications, they are clear as day in my mind.  Why won't they go away?  It's over so they should leave, right?  Hopefully, soon.  Even if they are always there- maybe they could be a little less vivid.  I think part of the overwhelming feeling is trying to find time in the day to meet the needs of my two and four year olds as well.  They are so good and so patient with me.  Its like they get it.  They know Easton needs a little more.  It doesn't mean they like it but most of the time, they cut me some major slack.  I wish it weren't that way.  I wish all three could get their needs met at once but thats just not going to happen right now.

This is the life we chose. We chose a life with three young kids.  We always said we would love and accept whatever God gave us- and we do.  A lot.  Easton should improve dramatically over the next six months to a year and with that the fear should lessen and more normal chaos should ensue.  I look forward to the day we all breathe a little easier- no pun intended.

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