Chapter Nine: "This Freaking Sucks"

It has been approximately 27 days since I got to properly hold my son.

Twenty. Seven. Days.

Maybe it's because I'm pretty sure I have a sinus infection and I'm cranky, but emotionally, today, I feel kinda shot to hell.

Just saying.

Most days I do well. Most days are ok. I've really made peace with the fact that if not for these surgeries, if not for this surgery, my infant son would have died. This fact never makes this suck any less.

I understand that people love us and are praying. I understand that people want to encourage us/me and tell us to be strong. I understand and I am thankful. Some days though, my favorite people are the ones who are like "Dude, your baby is sick, that freaking sucks."

Yeah, it does.

I can't describe to you how this feels, the best way to say it is that I miss my son. Even though he's in the room with me. I'm not acting like he's already dead, please, don't think that. He's not. He's alive he's alive he's alive. Every day is a miracle.

I'm missing out on his newborn stage. I'm missing out on sleepless nights, the grossest poops known to all man kind, and oh man, I'm missing out on nursing him. Those are some crazy small silly things but I miss them. I miss them so much. Even though he is so near me, he still feels so far away, and I miss him.

I have been fighting not to be jealous. I know so many other new babies. I know so many "new" mommies and my heart breaks when I see their pictures and their posts. Even when I was pregnant I would have trouble holding my friends babies...I knew that this was not the story we would have with our boy. No, I don't think where we are now makes me less of a parent (or at least I remind myself that it doesn't) but it hurts like crazy. I want to be snuggled up at home with my Deano and my Ellie. I want to be adjusting to a life of four instead of three. Right now I feel like my family is spread out, we're thin. Stretched. Will we be stronger because of this? Oh yes. Does the stretching out hurt? Like hell.

I am strong. I will continue to be strong. My strength though does not diminish the fact that this is just so rough.

He cries now. You can watch him screw up his little face, it gets all red, and he opens his mouth...but there is still no sound. He still doesn't make sounds. It has been 27 days since I heard my son cry. When he does again, I know the tears will flow that day for me as well. I understand that the silence means he's getting better (and he is!) but I miss his noises. It is a terrifying thing to see him try to cry...his chest heaving.

The worst part? When he cries, I can't pick him up. I pat his bottom and rub his head and tell him I'm here and that I won't leave him and I sing to him and I tell him stories about his Sissy and my arm falls asleep and nothing else in the world matters in those moments. I just want to make it better for him.

I just want to take this from him.

If I could, I would. I don't care that he won't remember it. I don't care that he won't remember the pain. I don't care because right now I know he is in pain and he's just a little guy...he's just my little guy...

Look this sucks ok? I have a lot of Faith and Trust and Hope, and I know God is here every single minute of every single day and guess what? It still freaking sucks. God knows that.

And maybe, today, all these emotions are springing from sickness and a splitting headache, but I don't think it matters. While there is much hope and much joy to be found in these days of waiting with my son, there's also a lot of just...crappy days.

God said there would be.

So yeah.

This freaking sucks.