Real Life Rants Volume 1
Cars lined the driveway next door as kids ran to the neighbors house, arms dragging gift bags with obvious birthday goodies. Jude and I saw all of this while playing with some play-doh at the kitchen table.
Jude watched for a moment, asked what everyone was doing, then went back to squishing play-doh with his bronco and excavator.
I, however, could not look away. There was a birthday party happening for a group of kids who were my son's peers. Yet, he sat here with me, uninvited. I realize there is an age gap between the boys, and Jude is slightly younger, but our previous play dates had proved to me he enjoyed their company and vise versa. Everyone seemed to get along just fine.
The years of protecting and sheltering my son flashed before my eyes as I realized his not being invited was probably my fault. The play dates we would go to usually happening only after I assured everyone attending was healthy, immunized, non-biters, non-bullies. I always stayed, even when the other mom's left to do errands, making sure Jude was safe and everyone treated him ok.
I never imagined I would be this kind of mom--the one so fiercely protective of her kid it actually harms him. I guess my only explanation (and justification) for my behavior is having a sick, fragile, micro-preemie will change a woman. It makes even the sanest, most down-to-earth woman avoid the germ fest of grocery stores and church, (even in the summer), wake to check a respiratory rate on her kids in the middle of the night (even though they sleep just fine), and hover like a hawk in social situations.
I was Jude's voice for a long time. It was me who could tell he was in pain before he showed it .It was me who sensed he was sick even when his initial tests were "fine." It was me who said "stop" when he had been poked enough.
It is very hard to let go. To let him grow up and be experience the sadness and pain that sometimes comes with it. I thought the NICU would be the hardest thing I'd ever have to do. I was wrong.
Jude watched for a moment, asked what everyone was doing, then went back to squishing play-doh with his bronco and excavator.
I, however, could not look away. There was a birthday party happening for a group of kids who were my son's peers. Yet, he sat here with me, uninvited. I realize there is an age gap between the boys, and Jude is slightly younger, but our previous play dates had proved to me he enjoyed their company and vise versa. Everyone seemed to get along just fine.
The years of protecting and sheltering my son flashed before my eyes as I realized his not being invited was probably my fault. The play dates we would go to usually happening only after I assured everyone attending was healthy, immunized, non-biters, non-bullies. I always stayed, even when the other mom's left to do errands, making sure Jude was safe and everyone treated him ok.
I never imagined I would be this kind of mom--the one so fiercely protective of her kid it actually harms him. I guess my only explanation (and justification) for my behavior is having a sick, fragile, micro-preemie will change a woman. It makes even the sanest, most down-to-earth woman avoid the germ fest of grocery stores and church, (even in the summer), wake to check a respiratory rate on her kids in the middle of the night (even though they sleep just fine), and hover like a hawk in social situations.
I was Jude's voice for a long time. It was me who could tell he was in pain before he showed it .It was me who sensed he was sick even when his initial tests were "fine." It was me who said "stop" when he had been poked enough.
It is very hard to let go. To let him grow up and be experience the sadness and pain that sometimes comes with it. I thought the NICU would be the hardest thing I'd ever have to do. I was wrong.
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