My little boy is going to be four on Sunday. He's gone from a 3lb 5oz preemie to a 38lb preschooler. He had a traumatic birth. We both did. I wonder if that's why he's such a stubborn kid now. Preemies have to be stubborn, they have to be strong-willed, or they can't survive. To be so tiny, not even supposed to be out of the womb yet, and have to start fighting for your life, it has to have a long-term impact. Maybe when I'm ready to pull my hair out because he refuses to listen to me, refuses to eat anything other than chicken nuggets and turkey dogs, stands firm in his belief that he has radioactive blood and can swing into action at any moment, maybe I should stop for a moment and remember that the reason my son is alive today is because of that very strong will to have his own way. Maybe I should also remember that he gets a lot of his stubborness from me.
I always get a little melancholy around his birthday. I remember in vivid detail every moment of the terrifying day and a half before he was born. I remember being all alone the night before and the night of his birth, after my mom left. Night one- alone, hooked up to monitors, listening to my son kick and hiccup, unable to sleep, wondering what was going to happen. Night two- alone, sick on the mag drip, delusional belief that it was all a strange dream and Jacob was still safe in my belly, wishing that someone would tell me what was going on, wishing I wasn't so alone. No one should be alone after giving birth, especially after giving birth and having your baby taken off to a NICU, and not being able to see him for over 24 hours.
And here I am, four years later, still alone. At least I have my son sleeping in the next room and I know he's safe. I have family, I have friends. I love and I am loved. But I am still utterly alone.
4 months ago
2 comments:
This is a quote from another blog I read in a letter she wrote to her daughter who had just turned 18. I think it's a good perspective on kids like yours & mine.
"I have spent the last 18 years being awestruck by the wonder that is you, someone I made in my spare time, and trying desperately to deal best with your epic personality and qualities. Tenacity. Intelligence. Constructive discontent. Persistence. Sensitivity. A fantastic sense of humour. Independence. Mercy. Fearlessness. Kindness. Equity.
Now, these qualities are terrible qualities in a child. North America wants children (especially little girls) to be polite. Obedient. Pliable. Kids who fight back and say no and think for themselves are hard to raise and not thought well of at all. We all talk about how "good" an obedient child is, and It struck me at some point while I was raising you, that I couldn't have a child who did as they were told really well, and then suddenly expect you to turn into an adult who was assertive, independent and free thinking. I realized you couldn't tell a kid "do what I tell you" and then turn around when they became a grown-up and suddenly say "think for yourself". (Well. You can, but I don't think it makes the best adults.)
In short, I realized that people are adults for a lot longer than they are kids, and that it makes more sense to cultivate wonderful adult skills than those traits that make kids easy to take care of. (Mostly I realized this, my child, because you wouldn't do otherwise.)"
http://www.yarnharlot.ca/blog/archives/2007/05/30/dear_amanda.html
As for the alone, I am sorry you are so, I am sorry I am.
I really like that quote. She's very right. If there is one thing I want for my son as he grow up, and when he is grown and leaves me, it's to think for himself. I was a difficult child to raise, I'm sure of it. I hear it a lot now that I'm raising my own child. "You used to do the same thing Nicole!" And while there are many things I did that I wouldn't want my son to repeat, and while I haven't made much of myself career-wise (something I hope Jacob does better at), I can at least say that I think for myself. I'll never be what others want me to be, unless it's what I also want to be.
As for the rest, well, someday, maybe, we wont be so alone.
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