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| Typical 2am, right? |
My life right now is a lot more treading water than I would like it to be. It's a lot about keeping my head above water and a lot of questionably wasted energy going into the status quo. Apparently swimming against the current is my special, special art form. Why go with the flow when you can just fight the universe? *eyeroll*
When the hell will I learn, you guys?
Lately it's Kai. Gosh, and to my poor, amazing eldest son, it's probably always Kai. What can I say? Kai has just always been...Kai. Believe me, I know how horrible it is to compare your kids and blah blah blah, but this past two years has just been trying. But trying in ways that I practically predicted, and therefore [in the most neurotic part of my head] should have planned for better? I obviously always wish for things to be best case scenario though, so even saying out loud that they haven't, seems ungrateful. Because some kids have terminal illnesses and some kids never make it to see two, and some people are struggling with such unimaginable things and are still doing it better than me.
Even before he was born, I worried about it. I worried about how we would deal with "starting all over" again. I had hyperbolic, tear-filled and pregnancy hormone related conversations with Sean where I guiltily questioned if we were doing the right thing. I mean, we were happy. We had one healthy, beautiful kid and we were lucky enough to know we were lucky. Why chance things? Why rock the boat? The answer then was the same that it is today though. Because our family wasn't complete, and because we had more to give.
Don't even start with the lecture on self fulfilling prophecies, but I always had a feeling that Kai was going to give us a run for our money. He was a high-maintenance fetus for crying out loud. With the first serious contractions at 31 weeks, with the weekly non-stress tests and multiple admissions just to "make sure" I wasn't going to go into labor early, I secretly knew this kid was something else. At 33 weeks, when I started really showing labor symptoms, I held my breath while staring at that ultrasound screen. Waiting for him to show that he was taking enough "practice breaths" to make the tech happy. While staring at the IV and hoping it could ease the contractions; When I was counting the kicks while hooked up to the monitors and hoping that he could just hold on awhile longer so there would be no NICU time. Each time I closed my eyes and prayed that his heartbeat would just do the right thing when I had those weeks of constant contractions, I knew he was different.
Don't even start with the lecture on self fulfilling prophecies, but I always had a feeling that Kai was going to give us a run for our money. He was a high-maintenance fetus for crying out loud. With the first serious contractions at 31 weeks, with the weekly non-stress tests and multiple admissions just to "make sure" I wasn't going to go into labor early, I secretly knew this kid was something else. At 33 weeks, when I started really showing labor symptoms, I held my breath while staring at that ultrasound screen. Waiting for him to show that he was taking enough "practice breaths" to make the tech happy. While staring at the IV and hoping it could ease the contractions; When I was counting the kicks while hooked up to the monitors and hoping that he could just hold on awhile longer so there would be no NICU time. Each time I closed my eyes and prayed that his heartbeat would just do the right thing when I had those weeks of constant contractions, I knew he was different.
It's been quite the road since then. I can count the number of nights he's slept through on one hand. My days are measured in cups of coffee and I try my best to stay one step ahead of the constant motion, the constant demands, the silence that surely signifies trouble. I've been in the pediatricians office more in one month with him than I had in one year with Kelan. He's had 9 ear infections now, not to mention the milk allergy, sinus infections, eczema, influenza, you name it I've lost sleep to it.
Our biggest test comes this week. We heard the dreaded words, "delayed development" at his 18 month check and since then it's been a lot of worry, planning, and hoping with him. I find myself getting frustrated when communication is just not coming. We all are, Kai included. So on Thursday he's being evaluated again. Therapists will come in our apartment and check boxes on their sheets to see whether or not he is "delayed" enough for concern. I have no predictions. I have endless worries, fear of some inane diagnosis, but no answers.
So I Google. Then I take deep breaths, but I panic when I think of the future (really, what's new?) but at the end of the day, he's still Kai. I practice gratitude because I should. It will be okay. It will all be okay. I'll be okay too, just as long as I can remember to turn around and swim with the current for once.
Our biggest test comes this week. We heard the dreaded words, "delayed development" at his 18 month check and since then it's been a lot of worry, planning, and hoping with him. I find myself getting frustrated when communication is just not coming. We all are, Kai included. So on Thursday he's being evaluated again. Therapists will come in our apartment and check boxes on their sheets to see whether or not he is "delayed" enough for concern. I have no predictions. I have endless worries, fear of some inane diagnosis, but no answers.
So I Google. Then I take deep breaths, but I panic when I think of the future (really, what's new?) but at the end of the day, he's still Kai. I practice gratitude because I should. It will be okay. It will all be okay. I'll be okay too, just as long as I can remember to turn around and swim with the current for once.
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