Two years ago today, my son was born. It should have been an amazing day, except it was 10-11 weeks before his due date. It had been a scary week after my daughter was admitted to the hospital for a respiratory illness, which was followed by my admission to the hospital for bleeding. Three days later, my son was born.
What followed that day is now a blur in my mind. I was recently told by a family member that he didn’t know things were bad when David was in the NICU for 6 weeks, other than we had to follow his weight. This was not the first time I heard something like this. Even my husband said he didn’t realize things were as hard as I described them later on because it seemed like I was doing well.
I didn’t really know I had to tell people things were hard while trying to survive until my son came home. It seemed obvious to me that going back to work 3 weeks after a C-section, pumping as if I had a newborn, seeing patients that had similar medical histories to my son with unfavorable outcomes, going to the NICU almost every day after work, feeling guilty if I didn’t go, raising a toddler at home, and overall trying to not let my life be destroyed while doing this was hard.
People deal with bad situations differently. I encourage everyone reading this post to never assume that because a person “appears well” while going through a hard time, that things are easy. Hence the title of this post. Some people like to talk about how they are feeling and some don’t. Often, a word of kindness, a cup of coffee, or if the person is close to you, offering to help at home (meals, babysitting, laundry) can mean the world.
Every day, I look at my son and I am so grateful that he did not have any major issues coming out of the NICU. Any NICU parent knows that it is a scary place to be in. For every step forward you take, often you take ten back. There is so much uncertainty and as a parent you feel helpless because it feels like there is nothing you can do. Being a pediatric neurologist prepared me for the medical aspects of what it mean to be there but not for the emotional roller coaster you go through.
Two years after his birth, I notice I have been forgetting details. Last year, I didn’t remember the one year anniversary of his NICU discharge until late in the day. I think this is a good thing. But while I forget some things, others haunt me. The smell of the masks we had to wear when he was accidentally exposed to the flu, the beeping of machines at work that sound like his apneas and desaturations, or seeing the tiny syringes I used to send milk to him the first few days.
I hope eventually all the bad memories will fade away and only good ones will remain. In the mean time, I hope everyone will look around and notice when someone is carrying something heavy and acknowledge that they are doing so. Even if they make it look good.
I want to wish my little guy the happiest of birthdays. We were so lucky to be supported by family, friends, and co-workers in so many ways and that we now have an amazing, active, curious, and sweet boy, who is giving his older sister a run for his money.
