The best and the worst

The day Charlotte was born, when we knew the likely outcome, I lay on the bed in L&D hooked up to mag sulfate, art lines and who knows what else. My sister sat next to me. At one point, she said something along the lines of You know, this is the worst day of your life.

At the time, through my medicated haze, I remember thinking This is the worst? I can handle this no problem.

She was wrong, though, that sister of mine.

The worst day, the Absolute Worst Day, came a couple of weeks later. I was home from the hospital. We had had Charlotte's service the day before. It was M's first day back to work. I was alone. I had not yet discovered babylost blogs or anything of the sort, and I had no network. The house was silent. I didn't know what to do with myself. I sat on the couch and aimlessly flipped pages of magazines. I couldn't turn on the tv for fear of seeing a baby, the phone was silent, the rest of the world had moved on while mine had stopped, and it seemed like I was completely, and utterly, alone.

That was the very worst day.

Similarly, when Bumblebee's time was nearing and things were eerily looking good, well, I didn't really expect his birthday to be the best day. And it wasn't. It was a good day, definitely had some miraculous moments, but not the best day. Maybe if I had had the picture-perfect birth experience it would have been different, but with our circumstances and my complications and NICU time etc., well, it wasn't perfect. I'm totally ok with that- the fact that he is here is more than enough for me- but I don't think I will look back on October 16th as the best day.

Our first days at home were hard. Logically I knew that having a living baby wouldn't magically make everything perfect, but I wasn't expecting the rollercoaster that took place in our first week at home. There are some crazy hormones post-partum. My loss of Charlotte became all the more real. I got a horrible cold, which meant I had to stay distant from my own baby. My anemia caused my breastmilk supply to be ridiculously low and I had to fight with that. We were paranoid over H1N1. I felt criticism from all angles on my mothering abilities- particularly MIL who was an avid non-solicited advice-giver in the early days at home.

Don't hold him that way.
Why isn't he wearing an undershirt?
My God, he's way too warm under those blankets.
You need to feed him more.
You just wait, you're going to be so sleep-deprived that you'll beg me to come over.

Um, no.

By some divine intervention (and this is going to sound really really mean), MIL got bronchitis a week ago. She hasn't been able to visit since. Things have been so much better.

At any rate, there have been many tears, many moments of feeling utterly inferior as a mom, many arguments with my husband, and much guilt. So many emotions, and while all I wanted to feel was grateful and happy, there were so many unexpected hurdles emotionally in our first few days.

It's so much better now.

We've settled into a routine, me and the Bee. He's growing well. I've figured things out. I don't feel like a first-timer at all of this. I think a lot of us babylost moms, even if we never physically had to change diapers and feed etc., well, I think there's some intuitiveness there. It all feels old to me, like I've done all this before.

In parallel to my Absolute Worst Day, today was M's first day back at work. It was just me and Adam today- he fed every three hours, he pooped every three hours, and slept in between. We cuddled on the couch in silence. I watched some TV, wrote out some Christmas shopping lists. I had cereal for lunch. Washed and folded little clothes. It was a simple day. Quiet and serene.

I don't know that I'll ever look back on Adam's birthday as the very best day. But today, today was pretty damn good.