On Being "Normal" and What Dreams May Come

This post is about honesty, with myself and with others.  These are my truest and most genuine feelings.  They are only one biased facet of my mothering to this point, but a large part--biased based on my experiences up to this very point of my life.  I feel it is important to record them and not to forget them.  My life is gearing up for a large change and a new beginning and I don't want my experience to be lost or tainted in any way.  Soon, the years will make these feelings a distant memory, but I want to remember them just how I feel them right now.

I often wonder what it would have been like to have had a baby who was "normal".  What I mean by this is I wonder what it would have been like to have given birth on-time instead of 4 1/2 months early, held my child in my arms immediately after that great accomplishment of childbirth instead of waiting a whole month to just hold Emma for a few minutes and another two months after that to hold her when I asked a nurse if it was okay, breastfed within the first week instead of living a life of pumping/bottle-feeding/breastfeeding and teaching my child to suck-swallow-breathe until about 9 months of age, woken up every three hours in the night for feedings instead of taking shifts with my husband to monitor Emma non-stop overnight so someone was always awake to make sure she didn't stop breathing because her oxygen cannula moved or her heart didn't stop with monitors going off every few seconds, been a first-time parent and clumsily discovered how to parent instead of always questioning/worrying if my child should be hitting some milestone or doing/not doing a specific behavior due to her prematurity and not because she's just different/unique, had a child that could eat age-appropriate foods in an age appropriate way instead of having a child that doesn't suck, chew or swallow properly and vomited projectile-style all her life when happy, sad, or because of eating difficulties, to worry about what she eats and if it's healthy instead of how she eats and what texture/size the food is and if it has enough calories in it, having a child that sleeps and to not have to worry about calming her within one minute of distress instead of half-heartedly sleep training your child and not letting them just "cry it out" from the beginning because I'm afraid she will throw-up and aspirate because she is upset, had a baby that just spit up instead of one that vomits requiring cleaning vomit off of carpet multiple times a day/week, showering, changing complete outfits and struggling to re-feed a meal(s) for fear of loss of calories and inadequate long-term weight gain, showed up to the doctors for the typical monthly then yearly checkups instead of worrying if any cough or cold will lead to something fatal and going to specialty doctors on an all-too-frequent basis, and worried if I was being a good mommy based on no experience instead of having guilt for having her too early and causing her undue struggle.  In short, I wonder what it would have been like to not have had a micro-preemie.  I'm not MLK here, but I have a dream of what may come, and it may or may not include a happy, healthy new baby with a dash of "normal".

Just so you know, I'm not writing this to complain or because I don't realize/value what a miracle my daughter's life is because I do realize it each and every day second, in fact I am reminded of it, and I am oh so grateful for her life and for the opportunity to spend this time with her as her mommy.  I actually regard it as a blessing, privilege, and an honor.  I delight in it.  I love it and I love her more than words can express, moreso because of all the struggles she and I have been through.  I actually know that I am her mother for a reason and it is right and good.  I know that no one knows her like me and we will always have this special bond that only a mother and daughter have.  (I know and have perspective that many situations are far worse and brutal, like never being able to have a living child at all or having a child with a terminal illness--the list could go on.  This is just my experience.)  But...as a mother my job and natural instinct is to nurture and nourish and when a mother I can't do that, I feel like a failure...innately, immediately and fundamentally.  It is just that somewhere inside me, un-dealt with, poorly recognized and rarely verbalized, is this feeling--this longing--for what might have been.  The unanswered question of what life would have been like if I had not had a micro-preemie.  The feelings of guilt, anger, and jealousy.  It is a feeling that I was robbed of something or, in fact, of many somethings that I can never get back--precious experiences that most mothers take for granted and I wished I could have, too.

It is precisely this feeling, oddly enough, that spurs hope within my bosom.  I feel hopeful that this pregnancy will be healing and therapeutic to my soul.  My experience with Emma makes me cherish every.single.moment. being a mother.  It lets me relish in the good and the bad.  It has strengthened me to do more and to be more, and at the same time to realize I have little to do with who she is, fundamentally speaking, and that she will learn and grow at her own pace, but more importantly, be okay with that.  It has let me appreciate whatever small accomplishment she makes, any stride forward whatsoever, and taught me the word "celebration" in a way I never knew before motherhood.  It is an experience for my profit and learning and is for my good; indeed, these feelings have prepared me for what is to come and will buoy me up in times of future struggle and endow me in times of plenty. So while I wouldn't trade any of the experiences I have had with Emma, I wish that my future baby boy will not have to experience such difficult struggles so early in life and can just...well, enjoy being a typical baby and toddler.

So, forget "normal".  Who wants normal?!

I do.