Walk the Line

I've jumped on my blog probably a dozen times in the past week to write a post, but things always seem to get in the way. Either Kaia needs feeding or changing or just wants to be held, or I need to pump, or wash bottles, or do chores, or eat or sleep.

Those are all excuses however. What is really keeping me from writing is the sense of not being sure where I fit in. I no longer need this as an outlet to write about the disasters in my life, because really, comparatively, I don't have any. While Kaia's upcoming surgery and casting will (I'm sure) occupy a few (or more) blog posts, there isn't the sense of 'dire-ness' that has plagued me for the last two years. My complaints would be of a much more mundane nature, which I'm afraid come off sounding whiny and ungrateful.

I think this is the hardest thing about being both a dead baby/living baby mommy that I have experienced. I don't feel guilty about Kaia's pPROM issues and I don't feel badly about her prematurity. Those were things I could not control and we have and continue to deal with them as best we can. What I do feel badly about is sometimes, when Kaia wakes me up for the 3rd time in one night, or when she won't fall asleep until well after midnight, or I'm pumping for the 7th time in a day, or I'm washing my 2nd or 3rd round of bottles...I sometimes forget how lucky I am. Sometimes I am decidedly crabby. And that makes me feel guilty.

I suppose I naively thought, since I usually had not one but two sick needy newborns under my care in the NICU, I would have this baby stuff down cold. Change diapers? No problem. Bottle feed? Cake. Wipe up spit up? Sure, bring it on. But it's different when you don't get to clock out at the end of a twelve hour shift, and there are no days off. I also thought that my dead child, and my disastrous pregnancies would somehow make me more tolerant and appreciative. I would be like Glinda the good witch, calm and serene in my fluffy white dress and crown, able to float above it all in my happy soap bubble. I would laugh (or titter behind my white gloved hand) in the face of little sleep, a messy house, and a fussy baby. It's harder than it looks though. Sometimes I feel more like the Wicked Witch of the West. Green, and warty and crabby as hell. In the long term I guess I probably am more appreciative and will look back in fondness. But, sometimes in the moment, I am a little ashamed to admit that I lose sight of how good I've got it.

I suppose I have been afraid to admit on here how challenging I find it sometimes, because over the last year and a half I have read so many BLMs post about how they hate hearing mothers complain. And I want to be sensitive to that. I don't want to sound ungrateful or unappreciative. I recognize that my life IS better than after Aidan died, for sure, definitely, but I also can't pretend I don't also have a better understanding of what those other mothers were complaining about.

On the other hand, I also feel like anything I post about Kaia and how damn cute and adorable and wonderful she is, is a slap in the face to those who are still waiting and hoping that their 'rainbow' will make his or her grand entrance one day. That waiting game is HARD. I know, I've been there and it sucked to see everyone else hop on that 'isn't-my-kid-just-the-cutest-thing-in the-whole-word" train while I felt like I fell off (clutching my sad little dead baby urn) somewhere along the way.

So where do I fit in? Kaia is adorable and wonderful and has made our lives so much happier and fulfilling and easier...while also making us incredibly tired, sometimes frustrated, occasionally crabbier and has complicated and made our lives harder as well.

I feel as though I am walking along the top of a hill. On one side are the dead baby parents who are feeling intense grief, or who haven't had the chance to parent a live child which they desperately want. They may feel lost, angry, sad, left out. I can relate to them because I can remember so clearly being there too. On the other side of the hill are the parents who have never had a dead child and who can't really appreciate the feelings of grief and loss that come along with that experience. These parents may have their own challenges and struggles with their living children, while also experiencing the joy and love that children bring. Both sides have a hard time seeing each other. They haven't walked in each others shoes. I'm walking along the top of the hill. While I want to comfort and be sensitive to my fellow BLMs, I can't help but have all the same happiness and concerns that those of a live baby do too.

This was brought into clear focus the other day when I sent out an e-mail to my extended family members regarding our kid's Christmas gift exchange. I have a big family on my mother's side. For DECADES we have gotten together with my cousins and second cousins and even a few third cousins at Christmas time, and the parents of children under the age of 21 have done a gift exchange. Every child's name goes into a hat, and you draw out as many names as children you have. Every kid gets a present. No one gets left out. I looked forward to this tradition as a child because (duh) I got a present to open! And who doesn't love that?! This year I might be looking forward to BUYING a present just as much, because it means I HAVE A KID! Anyway, we drew names last weekend at a family gathering and I was put in charge of e-mailing those who weren't at the gathering the name(s) we had drawn for them.

Yesterday I got an e-mail back from one of my (funnier) cousins stating that he was going to give away his KIDS as the present. ie: "Suzy will get Joan, John will get Alan, Tim will get Tom and Sarah will get baby Mike, but we'll put him in a dress to make him more 'girly' for her. Haha! Can't wait until Christmas!" (names have been changed, obviously). I first reacted as a dead baby mom": How can you joke about giving your kids away? Don't you know there are people out there who would go to the ends of the EARTH to have just one living child??!! Jeez, try to be more sensitive!!!

Then I found myself joining in on the joke. I might have even smiled. Because the man has 4 kids...and good God that would be tiring. You would want to give them away sometimes. Plus Sarah clutching little Mikey in a dress would be cute as hell.

I guess to sum up, I feel like I'm walking a fine line on my blog these days.

Sorry if I step on any toes.

Are my posts harder for you to read these days? Do you ever feel like you censor yourself on your own blog, fearing to offend? Does anyone else feel like they are walking the line between the living and the dead? How does it make you feel?