Not really.
Sometimes I want to leave my baby on someone's doorstep & hope they give him a better life than I believe I can give him. For realsie.
See here's what's happened. Bear in mind, events are shaded with a tinge of apparently post-natal depression (what PND stands for in case you hadn't figured it out already you stupid non-mental health professional stupid stupidity).
I've had a baby born 11 weeks premature, after almost 1.5 years of 'trying' and one round of fertility treatment. My pregnancy was awful, with me throwing up everyday until 2 days before said baby was born via emergency c-section due to pre-eclampsia and HELLPs. He spent 3 weeks in NICU, 1 day short of 6 weeks in SCN, a total of 1 day short 9 weeks before we could bring him home. I made the best that I could of the situation. I created charts that showed his progress. I decorated his room with photos. I made good of getting out of the room at least once a day like everyone told me I should. I expressed milk religiously, took medications & changed my diet to build up my milk supply to a) give him down his tube to prevent the millions of illnesses that were thrust upon him if breast was in fact not best, and b) be able to breastfeed once he was old enough & able. I kangaroo cuddled the shit out of this kid. If I was in the room, he was down my shirt asleep on me. I harassed staff daily, until the day that they finally said we could bring him home. I thought they were messing with me, but no, they were seriously giving a baby to me to look after. I got him home. And....
He cries. ALL the time. If he's awake - chances are he's crying. Sometimes screaming. He has a whole range of health problems from being born prematurely - none of which is any of his fault. Hypothyroidism, phosphate deficiency, Hb deficiency..... a number of surgical issues that need to be followed up. The latest of which, is a tongue tie that is so severe it needs to be done under general anesthetic because it will no doubt need a stitch. The surgeon, tells me he won't do it until 12 months old, due to the prematurity and size of my bouncing baby boy. Sound medical judgement. This however, means the weeks that I've been struggling to breastfeed are useless, because he will not be able to do it efficiently. Deep down I've know this. We've struggled. To the point I have yelled at him "this is instinctual!! All animals know how to do this! Why don't you?!?" We bottle feed him the milk I express all thinking "on Tuesday they'll snip the tongue tie and all will be well."
Here's the thing. I feel like the mother-fucking-epic-bob's-your-uncle-epic-fail of mothers that ever failed the fail. I feel like I should have listened to all the signs of the universe telling me I should not have a child, and just got another puppy instead. You know why? Because this is my puppy. Well my year and 2 months old puppy. This photo is not even posed. He just grabbed it, and wandered round like a "baws y'all". For real. Because he's amazing.
Here is my child. My 'survived me trying to kill him for 7 months, I'm a little human child'.
Cute, yes. Allowed me to make a beard out of bubbles in his bath, yes. Screams non-stop throughout the day, yes....
The one thing I was clinging to, was breastfeeding. The one normalcy of this whole situation, was being able to breastfeed my child. And that has been taken away from me. And you know what? I feel fucking cheated. If anything should be ok, it should be this. It could be the ceasear, where I couldn't hold my child, I didn't feel him 'coming out' of me. It could be the fact that I couldn't hold my baby for 8 days until he was over 1kg. It could be a number of things, but I've always felt that I'm playing house. That this kid is someone else's and I'm just playing until someone real comes along and claims actual parentage. This confirms it. This should have been the thing that 'cinched' our relationship.
But it hasn't.
Enjoy the ride. Someone should.
Cheers,
Qld Nurse.
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