It is strange, but true. One of the most profound things I have ever heard another parent of a preemie say is, “Every year they get bigger and stronger, but somehow their birthday always manages to stir up turmoil for me.”
Not really turmoil, so much. It’s been seven years. Probably it is a good reminder for me. I lose perspective from time to time. I worry that squirrels will take up residence in my attic. I wonder if we’ve gone and killed the whole lawn. I get frustrated when I’m on a schedule and the kids don’t cooperate.
Life. I get consumed with the bluster of life.
So, it is funny to me (Funny peculiar, not funny ha ha.) that on the eve of Annabella’s 7th birthday, I find myself overwhelmingly grateful.
Sure, I am grateful that she will be 7 tomorrow, that she is growing and healthy. She makes me so proud, I can’t even tell you.
But that’s tomorrow. Tonight I am grateful for other things. Not being hospitalized. Not wondering if the magnesium sulfate IV will keep me from having a seizure or embolism… Not to mention scared senseless for my unborn baby. Seriously, when the neonatologist comes to speak to you about what life is like for a baby born at 26 weeks and they cry while telling you, that is not comforting.
Now I’m going to curtail my self-indulgence. I’m going to go sleep a peaceful sleep for all the reasons above. Tomorrow is a special day and it is most definitely not about me.
Aug
02