Me: "I need a vacation from you nagging me."
Erin: "Good luck."
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Friday, December 9, 2011
Feeling guilty about the way I'm feeling
I know someone whose wife's labor was induced and gave birth recently. It got me thinking how cool it must be going to bed one night not being a parent but knowing that the next day you would be.
I've always resented that we missed out on a lot of the fun pregnancy stuff. Three months worth, in fact. No countdown to the due date. No sitting on pins and needles waiting for labor to begin. No putting final touches on the nursery for baby's arrival. Not having Erin being wheeled out of the hospital in a wheelchair with the baby. You get the picture.
Ours was a different experience for sure. Several months of worrying whether we'd reach the point of viability due to the problems we were experiencing. Multiple doctor visits each week. On bed rest for a month. In and out of the hospital. Being told that Zachary would weigh three pounds at birth if we were lucky. Lucky, really?
I realize that I shouldn't be feeling the way I am feeling. We are so blessed that Zachary made it to 26 weeks and somehow managed to survive the myriad of life-threatening problems that he faced during his eight months in the hospital. But I still get pissed sometimes.
I'm tired of having virtual strangers in and out of the house at all hours taking care of my baby because he has to be watched 24 hours a day. I'm tired of feeling like I'm being judged by others because of the choices I make regarding his care. I'm tired of not being able to take him out and show other people how proud we are of him because we're terrified of RSV. I'm tired of the medical equipment and supplies and rigorous routine of medicines, breathing treatments, therapies, and other medical crap that consumes the very limited time that just the three of us spend together.
I'm just tired, literally and figuratively, and feeling bad that I feel bad. But sitting here looking at my baby boy sleeping and knowing that he is happy and doing remarkably well makes it better.
I've always resented that we missed out on a lot of the fun pregnancy stuff. Three months worth, in fact. No countdown to the due date. No sitting on pins and needles waiting for labor to begin. No putting final touches on the nursery for baby's arrival. Not having Erin being wheeled out of the hospital in a wheelchair with the baby. You get the picture.
Ours was a different experience for sure. Several months of worrying whether we'd reach the point of viability due to the problems we were experiencing. Multiple doctor visits each week. On bed rest for a month. In and out of the hospital. Being told that Zachary would weigh three pounds at birth if we were lucky. Lucky, really?
I realize that I shouldn't be feeling the way I am feeling. We are so blessed that Zachary made it to 26 weeks and somehow managed to survive the myriad of life-threatening problems that he faced during his eight months in the hospital. But I still get pissed sometimes.
I'm tired of having virtual strangers in and out of the house at all hours taking care of my baby because he has to be watched 24 hours a day. I'm tired of feeling like I'm being judged by others because of the choices I make regarding his care. I'm tired of not being able to take him out and show other people how proud we are of him because we're terrified of RSV. I'm tired of the medical equipment and supplies and rigorous routine of medicines, breathing treatments, therapies, and other medical crap that consumes the very limited time that just the three of us spend together.
I'm just tired, literally and figuratively, and feeling bad that I feel bad. But sitting here looking at my baby boy sleeping and knowing that he is happy and doing remarkably well makes it better.
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