Worry Wart

I already know the answer to this question, but sometimes I have to ask it anyway: Would I be a different mother to Caroline than I am to Addalee?  The answer is without a doubt YES!  Would I have been a worse mother to Caroline?  Probably not, but so very different.  I like to think that I would have been less…what’s the word I’m looking for here?  Uh, crazy?

Poor Addalee has a worry-wart mom.  She has this panic-stricken PTSD basket-case lady to deal with for the rest of her life.  And I’m feeling it.  The pressure of raising a baby after losing one is tough sometimes.  I know that it’s scary when things go wrong, whether you’ve lost a child or not.  But I can’t help but flash back to those darkest of days when something happens with Addalee. 

It’s been a stressful few days around our house.  Addalee had her 6 month shots last week (I can’t believe she’s already 6 months old!).  She ran a low grade fever, but seemed to feel good, and I thought we were in the clear.  Then she had some issues – a low temperature which can indicate infection just as high fevers do - in the wee hours of Saturday morning that resulted in a scary 1:30 a.m. call to the emergency line at her pediatrician’s office, and (by ped’s orders,) a trip to the Children’s Hospital E.R. 

Thankfully, she was doing okay by the time we got to the hospital.  Her daddy and I were nervous wrecks, but she was content to play with her gown and wait.

The doctor told us that what we’d seen was likely a fluke and that she was fine.  And gave us some guidelines to follow in the future.  I think he may have wondered why we seemed so upset by all that was happening, I mean he was telling us that our baby was okay (thank God).  But it took us a minute to process because I think we were both bracing for the worst news.  Yuck.  Thankfully, Arthur shared why we were a teeny bit more sensitive than many parents.  The doctor was gracious and kind, and the overall experience was as good as could be expected. 

Our nerves have been frazzled, but we’ve been making up for lost sleep and trying to stop thinking the proverbial other shoe is about to drop.  It’s made a little easier when you’ve got this girl smiling at you!

Safety Dance

For some reason, I woke up with the song Safety Dance in my head.  Awesomely lame song with an awesomely lame video.  Despite this, it still was a hit.  But this post isn't about the Men Without Hats song from the '80s...it's about feeling safe.  I used to feel pretty stinkin' safe.  I've been really blessed to grow up in a safe place with a wonderful family and great friends.  Everything has always been really secure. But the sense of safety has been fading proportionately with time and the gaining of knowledge.  Some of the knowledge that I've gained has come in the form of wisdom with age.  I mean, we shed a bit of our naivete as we grow up.  We lose our sense of invincibility when we learn that bad things can happen to us or our peers.  This was probably a good thing for me...it kept me from being reckless.

Then there's the knowledge we never wanted to have to obtain.  This kind of knowledge comes from the tough things we go through.  In the whole growing up experience, we go through getting our feelings hurt by our "friends," breaking up with boyfriends/girlfriends, let downs, heartbreaks, sad things.  All of these work together to teach us lessons, and ultimately change us a little.

As I said, I've had a wonderful life.  But, I've been through some not-so-wonderful things in my days.  There have been some things that have knocked me off my feet.  I've always found my way back to my feet sooner or later...losing Caroline continues to rock my world.  I'm still shaky.  I'm still reeling sometimes.  I miss feeling safe.  I miss not knowing that the absolute worst can happen even when you've done the best that you can.

I might be a little nuts about some things now.  Poor Addalee, who knows how messed up she'll be because of her crazy overprotective parents.  I read something about SIDS not too long ago that really freaked me out.  It's a very real thing that happens to otherwise healthy children (sounds too much like the cord accident that took our first sweet girl).  I can't bear the thought of something happening to Addalee.  I know there's no guarantee (boy, don't I?!), but I couldn't help looking into some things to ease my mind.  I ended up with another monitor.  It's called a Snuza.

 It is pretty awesome.  It clips onto the diaper and senses breathing movement.  If no movement is sensed in 15 seconds, it vibrates to stimulate the baby to breathe.  If there is no movement for another 5 seconds, it alarms.  I clipped that little booger onto my little booger's diaper and slept peacefully for some nights...well, as peacefully as you sleep with a 3 month old baby!

I was starting to really feel comfortable in my role as Addalee's mom.  I was starting to really feel like she was really going to stay.  (I know this probably sounds crazy, but after you've gone through a loss, it seems unreal that you'll ever get to have a living child...at least to me.)  Then this past weekend, we were staying at my parents' house.  I laid Addie down in the crib, and tried to go to sleep.  I had a hard time sleeping.  Early in the morning, the alarm went off.  Arthur and I both sprung up from bed, he got to her first.  He picked her up, and she was okay.  She didn't gasp or cry, or look funny, or anything.  I guess it could have been a false alarm, but I just felt like something was off.  So fast forward, and she's fine, praise the Lord.  But, I'm shaken.    I miss feeling secure.

I guess there's just a delicate balance of fear and resolution.  I guess I just have to learn how to live with my new found knowledge, and trust that everything won't always be the worst case scenario.

I'm trying to learn how to dance again.  I just hope it doesn't take me too long.