Like I said before, when I was pregnant – I had high hopes and anticipation for what the future would hold. One month after welcoming Elliott into the world, I am excited about the months and years yet to come. In four weeks, Elliott has already changed and grown so much. We’re developing patterns and rituals and his personality is starting to shine. I’m looking forward to shopping for a Halloween costume and eventually Christmas gifts. He’s been lifting his head and kicking around in his crib…precursors to crawling, reaching and babbling. Oh, the babbling. I think that’s what I’m looking forward to the most…hearing his little voice begin to string together thoughts and ideas.
But I still can’t look at the photos of that first week without feeling an overwhelming tide of disappointment and frustration. Mostly because, instead of being able to enjoy my baby and document all his ‘firsts’, I was documenting the most horrific health experiences of my life. When I look back on his first month of life, for all the wonderful little memories (the mess he made at the first pediatrician’s visit) there will always be the little rain clouds (being discharged from the hospital 5 minutes before the first pediatrician’s visit).
That old cliche…that having a baby is hard? No duh. It’s terrifying. We are presented with all sorts of commericals that make it seem like coming home with a new baby is dreamy yet comically stressful. “Oh, yuck! There are poopy diapers and spit up and sleepless nights! Having a baby is tough! But I’m still so glowy and sparkly and fulfilled.” Pfft. I wish. The first night I spent at home with Elliott, I was terrified…there aren’t any other words for it. Even though I had carried him for nine months, after spending over a week mostly in the hospital, I felt like I had fallen behind everyone else in my family. I hadn’t gotten to spend much one-on-one time with him. I stared at this tiny infant and started worrying about whether I would ever feel strong enough to take care of him. I worried that all of these wonderful visions of parenthood that I held were just commercialized delusions. I’m sure I’m not alone. I’m almost positive that there are other parents who felt the same feelings when they brought home these tiny infants. No matter how much you plan out whether to breast or bottle feed or prepare the nursery – no one can prepare you for the overwhelming feeling of being responsible for this tiny person.
If we didn’t have our family there, I don’t know what we would have done. If I didn’t have Corey, I don’t know that I would have made it. Throughout this whole ordeal, I feel as though he’s been a trooper. I can’t imagine how difficult and scary it would be to have to bring home a newborn with a spouse still in the hospital. Corey worked diligently to not only help take care of the baby, but help take care of me. While we were making bottles for the baby, he was filling my water bottle for me. Watching Corey with Elliott is one of the most comforting things in the world for me. I love hearing him call Elliott “Mister Fussy Pants” or “Little Monkey”. Looking at Elliott – it is like looking at a little Corey. Minus the goatee…for now. I have no doubt that Corey is going to be an excellent father. He already is one.
Me? The healthier I feel, the easier it is taking care of Elliott. That terrified feeling that gripped me that first night has subsided. Sure, the late night feedings leave me a bit zombified during the day. But we have a routine. I know how he likes to be held…the faces that he makes that always make me laugh. I know how to comfort him when he’s upset, and when he feels like wiggling versus being cuddled. By the way – this boy LOVES being cuddled and cries like a billy goat when getting his diapers changed. I, for one, think he’s a hoot.
We always refer to our lives as finding the new normal. I’ve had to readjust my expectations and demands of myself. With all the health problems I’ve had, I haven’t been able to be as available for speech as I have been most of my life. I love my job and will readily admit that I’m a competitive control freak. (I’m pretty sure anyone who has worked with me is shocked…SHOCKED I SAY…at this admission.) The past month has been an important lesson in relinquishing control and re-prioritizing my life. I am of no help to anyone, myself – Corey – Elliott – the team, when I can’t physically get through the most basic of activities. I appreciate all the help I’ve received and hope to establish the new balance in my life once I’m feeling well.
The rest in Texas has been helpful. My hope is to start writing more about Elliott and less about my medical problems. I don’t want the first year of his life to read like a manuscript from House, M.D.
