Sometimes It Hits Me

 

Lately I’ve realized just how traumatized I am by the circumstances of Fiona’s birth. Several “incidents” made me realize I’m not finished with my journey as a preemie parent.

The first was a conversation with someone about how women are stronger than men in many ways. The other person mentioned that men could never handle labor and would never know what it feels like. I had to interrupt and remind the person that I did not know what labor feels like because I did not have a chance to experience it.

The second was while John was reading a book out loud to Fiona (and me, he sometimes does voices and it’s fun to listen). We get tired of children’s books so we sometimes read out of whatever book it is we are personally reading at the time. The book in question is a science fantasy book. At the end there is a character who is seven months pregnant. Because the author is a man I’m assuming he means calendar months not pregnancy months. I was exactly seven calendar months pregnant when Fiona was born. It was hard to listen to the description of the character musing on her pregnancy. I kept thinking that at that stage the baby is kicking all the time and moving and how round one starts to be. Then I started missing the two months I didn’t get to waddle around and rub my belly and have the old ladies smile at me on the street. The two months of swimming and preparing and rubbing my big belly and showing it off to John, and the anticipation of birth.

The third was last night. We were watching a movie and there was a pregnant lady who goes into labor. Of course she is screaming in ways I’m sure no woman actually does during labor, but I digress. Even though it was about 30 seconds of screen time, it was just hard to watch. My water never broke so I never got the chance to say to John, “I think it’s time.”

All of this just made me sad. Even fictitious characters remind me of what I feel I’ve lost and the fear and stress I felt. I haven’t cried in a long time, but for a while, it was every night. I realized that I am really traumatized by my experience and it is going to take a very long time for me to be ok with it.

On a positive note, I am so thankful that I have a beautiful little peanut that I love so much. Having a preemie doesn’t end when you bring the baby home from the hospital, but it makes a lot of the pain worth it. I don’t feel like I ever take her for granted. I’m so glad that so far she hasn’t had any major medical issues and seems to be developing appropriately for her adjusted age. A lot of people are not as lucky as I am.

Here is a picture I took just before leaving the house for class yesterday:

I love that she looks like she is reclining on my mom.