September is always a tough month for me. It seems like forever since I've been able to go outside without breaking into a serious sweat. I'm antsy. I crave fall. It took me a long time to figure out why I get depressed every September (now that my meds are perfected, I don't get so depressed, but it's still a tough month), and it doesn't make a lot of logical sense, but there is a reason. It took me 10 years to figure this much out:
12 years ago, I had two toddlers (3 and 1) and a new baby on the way. Labor Day weekend, I went into labor. At 23 weeks. I was dialated to 3 and the "regular" hospital couldn't stop my labor. They flew me in a helicopter to the best/biggest hospital in the state and there I stayed for 5 long weeks. My sister Julianne got married the next weekend, and my little ones took the trip to CA with my parents...without Mommy and Daddy. I layed there in the hospital so drugged up that I couldn't see, couldn't chew, or move my limbs. All of my muscles were incapacitated in order to keep my uterus from contracting. I was pumped full of toxic levels of magnesium sulfate, tributaline, steroids for the baby's lungs, etc, etc. I watched the expression on my husband's face fill with worry, age overnight, and try to tell me that everything was going to be fine. I listened in horror as nurses and neonatologists told me that my baby was probably going to be blind, have cerebral palsy, be mentally retarded, have intestinal problems, brain hemmoraging, etc....the list was so long. One nurse told me that I should end the pregnancy. I was so drugged that I couldn't move, but my insides were screaming at her and choking her. How dare she! Jay was in school full time and working full time. My Mom quit her job so she could watch my kids while Jay was a work and school. He'd come and visit me everyday at his lunchtime and mom brought my little ones to see me everyday...even if only for a couple of minutes...that's about all they could handle....they were little. My poor Mom drove 30 minutes each way so my babies could see their mommy for like 15 minutes. Every.day. And I laid there. After about a week, I stabalized and then was able to move a little...but I was still only 24 weeks along and dialated to 3. I could get up to go to the bathroom, shower once a day, and that's it. I just laid there and baked a baby....and worried....and cried...and tried to put on a happy face. The entire month of September. The days lasted SO long. Time was marked by meals and family visiting. The occasional "ride in the wheelchair" was a huge treat. I did pretty well. Whenever the tears would start, I would change the subject, distract myself, because I didn't think I could stop once I started. I pushed out of my head all the worries about how the little ones were dealing with mommy abandoning them, how life was going to be upside down when I came home, what normal was going to be like. I had so much support and so many blessings and so much love.
At 29 weeks, labor started again and we went though the whole toxic drug levels again and still, labor wouldn't stop. I was dialated to 6. The baby was coming, 11 weeks early. More blessings, prayers, and a very tough consult with the neonatologist. When David was born, he was breathing on his own. They had told us that he would not be. He started crying. The docs and nurses gave me a very quick look at him, and then they wooshed him off to the neonatal ICU, Jay following close behind. The doctors looked at the baby, shook their heads, and called him the champ. A little miracle. He was perfect.....just teeny....3 pounds, 10 ounces. He needed oxygen for only 24 hours. He stayed in the hospital for a month. He needed to learn to eat on his own, regulate his own temperature, and be at least 4 pounds. All of the complications they had told me about were non-existant. I stayed with him every day, held him in Kangaroo Kare. My mom continued to watch my little ones while I sat with David. I pumped breast milk, fed him from a bottle, sat by him, talked to him, bathed him, changed his itsy-bitsy diapers, put pictures and classical music in his isolette (think incubator). I cried every day because I had to leave him in the hospital and go home and because I had been there and seen all of the other babies in the NICU with no one there. My heart broke every day.
When David finally came home, there was always something to watch out for. Another complication that could could come up. Miraculously, he was fine, but it was still long year...
David is our miracle. He is a perfectly healthy, straight A student, athletic, caring and compassionate, soft-hearted guy. He's almost 12! Because everything turned out so miraculously, everything should be fine....happy....etc. But I carry so much guilt. I'll never know if I did anything to cause pre-term labor. I'll never know if I did any permanent damage to my older two kids by being gone for so long. I'll never know if I did the right thing by going to the hospital every day to care for David, and then taking care of Eric and Bekah in the evening. I'll never know. Sure, everything turned out fine. We witnessed a miracle. Still, every September I am overcome with a sadness and I mourn......something.......I don't know what. It doesn't make logical sense....but that is the way it is. I'm just sad.
I see all the wonderful things that happened. I am so grateful for all the love, support, blessings, and prayers we received. I'd like to figure out a way to just bypass this whole month, but no luck yet. I'd really like to know why after 12 years, I still have a sucky September. In the meantime, I just keep telling myself, next month will be better.
The race was 1.6 miles. It was 105 degrees, so yes...the last .1 miles totally count! There were 3 schools there, 60 girls in her race. She came in 25th overall, and 2nd in her school's 7th grade group.
It was REALLY hot that day. And it was her first race. The courses for these meets aren't really well marked, so she wasn't sure how much further there was to run. At the end she said that she could probably go faster if she would have known. She also started out at the back of the pack (super shy - didn't want to get in anyone's way) and next time will try to start closer to the front. It's all about strategy now.
Bekah and Daddy after the race. She did SOOOOOOO good. I know, I already said that. But, still...I'm so proud. Yea, Bekah!!!!!
