Musings

I have this thing for poetry written by Lord Byron. Knowing the love of my life is named Byron-- it's not too difficult to figure out why. Anyway, Lord Byron once penned "If I don't write to empty my mind, I go mad." That's how I'm feeling tonight. I'm a bit blue. I don't know why but I started thinking about those first few days after Kean was born when we first found out the doctors were suspecting Trisomy 21 (and the blood literally froze in my veins). The agony of waiting for confirmation and the nights of wet pillows and wet hair from crying so much. I wonder if it's normal to be traumatized from all that? I read an article a while ago about how parents who had babies in NICU for I think a month or so had tested positive for Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. I firmly believe that. I still feel scrubbed raw and here we've been home for over three months. I sometimes wonder if there is something wrong with me. I get twinges of sadness and pity for myself when I run to the grocery store (like tonight) and see "typical" baby boys-- all healthy and alert. Kean has these moments where he is on his back and just stares into space for the longest amount of time-- and it frankly depresses me. Other times he will take forever to focus on my face. I guess I'm just feeling vulnerable tonight and needed to vent.
Never have I clung to such tiny milestones as him grasping his bottle, or cooing or smiling. I know everything is much slower and I am so grateful for how wonderful he is doing-- but tonight I'm feeling overwhelmed and are you ready for how silly this will sound???-- I'm worried that everyone will continue to love him as much when he grows out of his cute baby stage and starts growing up. I'm tired of sore breasts and pumping and worrying about germs and his breathing and his congestion and blah, blah, blah.
Okay, sniff, sniff. I've purged most of my black feelings. Some I just have to keep locked up inside. But I've decided tonight--- that I think I'm ready to write down in depth this entire experience that has swallowed up our lives over the past six months. I'm thinking it will be therapeutic and I don't want to forget any of it--- the icky stuff or the sweet miracles. Make me do it, okay?