In many ways, I am doing better. The dreams have stopped. I am sleeping (when I am not buried in sick children). All the activity of a new school year is agreeing with me I guess.
On the day of the last ultrasound, after I had spoken to the RE about what he wanted me to do, I had to meet with a nurse to get prescriptions, etc. While with her, she made the off handed comment that she was glad that if this was going to happen, it happened when it did because it would be "so much worse" later. I just accepted what she said without comment then. Shock and heartbreak will do that to you. Now it makes me upset to think about her words. How could she possibly know what would be worse to me? Why couldn't she understand that this was worse no matter when it happened?
Then, a colleague recently told me that she was so glad that things are going well, because it could be so much worse. The whole conversation left a bad taste in my mouth. Partly because I don't really care for the person I heard this from, and partly because I actually hate that saying--"it could be worse."
So while I am doing better, I am still left with this slow burning anger, which is centered around that idea of "it could be worse." I believe (hope) this, too, will work itself out as more distance develops between our lives and the latest round of crises.
Sure, from the logical standpoint, things could be worse. My boys could not be here. That would be worse. The troubles they face could be greater. That would be worse. In the scheme of things, I suppose we did get off "easy" in some people's view, especially to those who do have it "worse."
But that is where the anger comes...I hate that it is
my family that this whole "it could be worse" idea is used. Sh.awn has had a recent surgery, which appears to have been successful so far.
(except for his eyes) It could be worse--that surgery could have been unsuccessful or could have caused an infection, although we have to wait a full year to no longer worry about the infection risk.
Yeah, it could be much worse, unless you remember that for us, it already is. We have to deal with the threat of surgeries for the rest of our lives. Of shunt malfunctions. Of developmental delays. Of gross motor skill delays. Of possible pregnancies and miscarriages. Of that unknown future and what
can happen.
Our (my) ideal dream that every parent has when he or she hears there is a pregnancy is gone. That picture of a perfect life with perfect children was shattered for us. For us, a pregnancy does not equal children. A pregnancy can and does equal miscarriage. A pregnancy can and does equal high risk and bed rest, and PPROM, and NICU stays. That is worse. It is there that we got cheated.
It makes me so angry at the unfairness of it all.
Don't get me wrong. I know I will be pregnant again** (it's the sticking that makes me nervous).
And I soak up the beauty that is my boys
every single day. I am amazed at them and their strength. We are blessed that they are here and I love them with
every ounce of my being. I will fight until I have nothing left, against anything and everything that tries to get in the way of my boys being happy and healthy. We are happy. And right now, we are healthy. (minus this cold from hell, but colds don't count) And, on most days and at most moments, I am VERY optimistic about what their future holds.
Still, today I am angry. I hate that I know
exactly how fragile health is and that things
could be so much worse for us. I am angry because I know that
worse is still a possibility for us.
I am angry because I can't just go back to that life of blissful ignorance, no matter how much I want it.
Sigh. I guess, though, it could be worse.
**How egotistical is that? I hope I didn't jinx myself with that line.
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