i love him.
When we decided to start trying again last year I was excited, we both were, but I was also nervous because I never knew if I could love a new baby as much as I loved Zachary. We had so many ideas of the type of baby that he would have been, and the things he would accomplish but we never experienced any of it and because of that he would always remain the perfect baby - regardless of if he would have ended up screaming 24 hours a day for the first year of life...we would never know. While I had come to terms with all of that I was still fearful that maybe this new baby wouldn't "measure up" - what if he/she was colicky and just screamed all the time? Would I be resentful? angry? There were so many things running through my head. I couldn't replace Zachary (nor did I ever want to) and I didn't want this new child to feel like they weren't as important as their older brother (because we would never ever not tell them about Zachary). It was hard, but I knew I would still love this new baby.
Fast forward to 9.5 weeks ago...I knew I loved the tiny boy. I loved him just as much as I loved his brother - no question. I was still scared, but for different reasons now, health reasons. I can say all this now because we're past that, WAY past that. When Jack was born things happened VERY similarly to what happened when Zachary was born (far to similarly if you ask me). Delivery was fine, though his heartrate dipped a bit at one point during labour because his cord was around his neck) and he screamed when he came out - all good. He scored fantastically on his APGAR's (9 and 9) but then he started grunting and the nurses didn't like that - they called the NICU who came down to take a look. I wasn't worried at this point because he looked great, and honestly, I was in a daze (and could barely see because of all the tears I was trying to hold back...not sure why now that I think about it). And then it happened...they took him way. I told Matt to go with him, and then it was just me - everyone was gone (though my nurse kept coming in and out to check on me) and it was just like it had been with Zachary. I broke down. I was terrified that they missed something on an ultrasound, or the echo, and that he wasn't going to be okay after all. I couldn't lose another baby. Time passed (incredibly slowly I might add) and with each passing minute my stress level rose...nobody was coming to update me. I thought someone would at least tell me something, and the fact that they hadn't maybe meant that there wasn't time because things were getting worse. My mind jumped to a million scenarios, all of them bad. After an hour and a half my epidural was allowed to come out and I could go to the NICU, so off I went...when I was wheeled in Matt came over (and he was happy as can be, which helped, but I think I still yelled at him (nicely) for not updating me once or even telling the family in the waiting room that he was born) and told me what was up. He was fine. That didn't stop me from quietly gasping when I was him in his bed. He looked exactly like his brother, wires, IV, the difference being that he was on CPAP instead of actual Oxygen - though to me it all looks the same. I almost broke down again, but I let Matt explain first and then I calmed down. He was fine - he would be fine, that was all I needed but it was still hard. The week that followed was long and trying. He would overcome one obstacle only to be pushed back by something else. It was even more frustrating that we didn't know when he would be coming home...then he failed that damn carseat test and had to wait an extra day. Overall it was a rough week. But I still loved him.
Fast forward to 2 weeks ago...mommy-hood had been bliss for the first 6-7ish weeks, he truly was an incredible baby. He slept and ate pretty much all the time (in 4 hour stretches) and life was good. Then something happened. Gas happened. Not sure why but it started affecting him very negatively at this point and he just couldn't get to sleep because when we put him down he would either throw up and wake himself up and then scream because his tummy hurt or he would just scream and continuously bring his knees to his chest until he farted 10 times and stunk up our room - at this point he would continue screaming because now he didn't want to sleep anymore. It sucked, but I still loved him.
Fast forward to today...the tiny boy is finally starting to feel better (though drooling and chewing like crazy (mostly on his hands or arms but he chews on peoples shoulders when available). We switched him to a gentlease formula and it has made an incredible difference in him. He still burps like a champ, and farts on occasion, but it's nothing like before - and he doesn't scream bloody murder like he did either. That said, there are days when this sweet tiny boy is FAR from sweet (though still tiny). He screams, yells, is not calm down-able, and leaves both his daddy and me sitting clueless wondering what else we can possibly do. I'm not going to pretend that those days don't exist, though most other people never see him like that (he hides it well) and don't believe us when we say it happens. Those days, however, are few and far between (thank goodness). All of that said, he is still fantastic. He is cooing, smiling, and melting our hearts more and more with each passing day.
My fears of not loving him as much are gone. They are both my boys, and I love them equally and always will.
For now, I leave you with this video of the tiny boy...he's pretty darn cute if you ask me!
Much Love
Fast forward to 9.5 weeks ago...I knew I loved the tiny boy. I loved him just as much as I loved his brother - no question. I was still scared, but for different reasons now, health reasons. I can say all this now because we're past that, WAY past that. When Jack was born things happened VERY similarly to what happened when Zachary was born (far to similarly if you ask me). Delivery was fine, though his heartrate dipped a bit at one point during labour because his cord was around his neck) and he screamed when he came out - all good. He scored fantastically on his APGAR's (9 and 9) but then he started grunting and the nurses didn't like that - they called the NICU who came down to take a look. I wasn't worried at this point because he looked great, and honestly, I was in a daze (and could barely see because of all the tears I was trying to hold back...not sure why now that I think about it). And then it happened...they took him way. I told Matt to go with him, and then it was just me - everyone was gone (though my nurse kept coming in and out to check on me) and it was just like it had been with Zachary. I broke down. I was terrified that they missed something on an ultrasound, or the echo, and that he wasn't going to be okay after all. I couldn't lose another baby. Time passed (incredibly slowly I might add) and with each passing minute my stress level rose...nobody was coming to update me. I thought someone would at least tell me something, and the fact that they hadn't maybe meant that there wasn't time because things were getting worse. My mind jumped to a million scenarios, all of them bad. After an hour and a half my epidural was allowed to come out and I could go to the NICU, so off I went...when I was wheeled in Matt came over (and he was happy as can be, which helped, but I think I still yelled at him (nicely) for not updating me once or even telling the family in the waiting room that he was born) and told me what was up. He was fine. That didn't stop me from quietly gasping when I was him in his bed. He looked exactly like his brother, wires, IV, the difference being that he was on CPAP instead of actual Oxygen - though to me it all looks the same. I almost broke down again, but I let Matt explain first and then I calmed down. He was fine - he would be fine, that was all I needed but it was still hard. The week that followed was long and trying. He would overcome one obstacle only to be pushed back by something else. It was even more frustrating that we didn't know when he would be coming home...then he failed that damn carseat test and had to wait an extra day. Overall it was a rough week. But I still loved him.
Fast forward to 2 weeks ago...mommy-hood had been bliss for the first 6-7ish weeks, he truly was an incredible baby. He slept and ate pretty much all the time (in 4 hour stretches) and life was good. Then something happened. Gas happened. Not sure why but it started affecting him very negatively at this point and he just couldn't get to sleep because when we put him down he would either throw up and wake himself up and then scream because his tummy hurt or he would just scream and continuously bring his knees to his chest until he farted 10 times and stunk up our room - at this point he would continue screaming because now he didn't want to sleep anymore. It sucked, but I still loved him.
Fast forward to today...the tiny boy is finally starting to feel better (though drooling and chewing like crazy (mostly on his hands or arms but he chews on peoples shoulders when available). We switched him to a gentlease formula and it has made an incredible difference in him. He still burps like a champ, and farts on occasion, but it's nothing like before - and he doesn't scream bloody murder like he did either. That said, there are days when this sweet tiny boy is FAR from sweet (though still tiny). He screams, yells, is not calm down-able, and leaves both his daddy and me sitting clueless wondering what else we can possibly do. I'm not going to pretend that those days don't exist, though most other people never see him like that (he hides it well) and don't believe us when we say it happens. Those days, however, are few and far between (thank goodness). All of that said, he is still fantastic. He is cooing, smiling, and melting our hearts more and more with each passing day.
My fears of not loving him as much are gone. They are both my boys, and I love them equally and always will.
For now, I leave you with this video of the tiny boy...he's pretty darn cute if you ask me!
Much Love
2 comments, we'd love to hear yours!:
Beautifully written :) Our first daughter used to scream bloody murder from 4pm-midnight every night for the first 3 months!! It's referred to as 'purple crying' now but at that time we'd never heard of it. So I know how you feel with the inconsolable crying. Luckily it passes quickly! Good luck :)
Thanks for sharing this, Nik. You are an incredible woman, mother and friend. You're strong, giving and real. I can't wait to get back and wrap my arms around each you. Love to you all.
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