I’ve been pretty busy but I’ve been rereading the things I wrote last year. I can’t believe how much has changed in a year. I’ve just been sitting here reflecting and soaking it all in. I was so naive.

From October 23, 2009

I never understood, until now, the connection that a mother and baby shares. You are physically connected for 9 months and you really get used to him even though you can’t see him. And your body knows you’re not pregnant, but knows that you baby isn’t there and your mind just goes crazy. You know where he’s at and that he’s okay but you feel like something’s missing. And you don’t want to be alone even for 5 minutes because you know you’ll start crying again because you actually have time to stop and think about him and the fact that you’re missing out on the first month of his life. And you know that he misses you too because the moment you pick him up, he doesn’t even have to open his eyes to know that you’re there. And you can just see it in his eyes that he loves you too. And you sit there for an hour just staring at each other because there are no words that could ever be said to describe the way he makes you feel. And you know that even after all the hell that you just went through for a whole two weeks in labor, trying to keep him safe for just a few days longer, and the blood tests and shots and IV fluids that felt like glass in your veins… you would rather go through that all over again than to see him get his heel pricked again. And you have this overwhelming feeling that you’re forgetting something all the time. And when you try to go home, it feels so dark and cold and miserable that you can’t stand being there and you have to move in with your mom for a week. But you know they’re getting tired of you and Kyle wants me to come home but I just can’t pull myself to do it. All his toys and clothes and ultrasound pictures are all over and every little thing that you look at reminds you of him. And I know I need to go home, but I just can’t do it. And I miss Kyle because he’s had to work so much and he has to sleep at home so he can get up and get ready for work. And you don’t like to mope around feeling sorry for yourself but for once in your life, you don’t care who sees you cry and you do so very often. I miss him so much. I just don’t even feel alive or care about anything else.

But I AM thankful for the way things turned out. I look around the NICU and see so many babies far worse than Kyson. And while I’m glad, it makes me feel so bad for the other parents. He’s probably one of the healthiest babies in there. It’s hard to leave your child somewhere over an hour away where they poke him and keep him in a box and the only time he gets to come out is when you finally get there late at night and you get to hold him for an hour MAYBE if his bilirubin levels are low enough to take him out from under his phototherapy lights. So many tears all around the room, but I guess the upside of that is that it’s not the babies that are crying. They are happy and doing well. It’s us mamas tryin so hard to get the courage to leave. But you get two steps away and turn around to look one more time and it starts all over.

The only thing he has to do before he can come home is

1) Maintain his body temperature on his own
2) Be fed from a bottle for all meals

And then for right now, he’s still under the bilirubin lights for jaundice.

I’m pretty confident it will only be like, 2 weeks?
And I really hate that he has to miss out on his first halloween.
I’m going to try and find a preemie costume so he can at least still dress up and let me take his picture.

And I just want to say that nobody better name their kid Kyson anytime soon cause his name actually means something to me besides being some cute new name on the most popular list.

Kyson is celtic for “Kyle’s son”
Aidan is Irish for “fiery”

So unless you are married to a Celtic Woman loving hairy man named Kyle and you want your kid to be a fireball, you’d best back off.

I mean it.

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