Cold Day

It's 11am. Baby is asleep and I'm left here to wonder what to do. This napping time always presents a problem for me. Is it possible that I'm really that unproductive? It's this part of my personality that has me thinking that it might be a good move for all if I head back to work. I crave structure. When given large amounts of free time, I have no idea what to do. I'm looking around my bedroom at any number of "chores." Last night's wine glass still on the nightstand. Dust on the TV. Old flowers that should probably be thrown out. But still, I am at a loss. And then, when he wakes up, I feel like I just wasted two hours or so on nothing.
Anyway, who cares? It's all just nonsense anyway.
So this big page. A lot has happened over the past year. I kept meaning to write it down, what I thought, how I was feeling, but what's the point unless you're ready? And I just haven't been. Maybe it's this season. Melancholy is inspiring. Bare trees, depressing snow "storms". Speaking of which...what's with snow? I feel like the days of missing school and going sledding are done. Will I be able to do that with my boy?

What's this story, you ask? Long and pretty uninteresting, but it's changed my forever, so it's a big deal to me. When we found out we were pregnant, it was quite a shock. And I always wonder, what's the surprise? Either you did something to prevent it or you didn't. We didn't and I was still surprised. Figures. Anyway, the entire first month or so was kind of a roller coaster. After our first ultra-sound at about 6 weeks, the OB didn't even think the baby was viable. His heart beat was too slow. I refused to use the progesterone they prescribed. I thought, "if this baby is meant to be born, he will be." And so we waited the alloted time and were delighted that our baby appeared to be improved. And he was.

At around 16 weeks, something suspicious turned up on yet another ultra-sound. Barely two weeks later, I went into surgery to have a 10cm tumor and an ovary removed. And we thought that was a nightmare.

January 11. We were all excited to go for the big ultra-sound. They were going to measure bones, find organs, etc... We knew something was up when the doctor took a little too long hemming and hawing over the images. 5 hours of ultra-sounds and echo-cardiograms later, it was confirmed that our son had a variety of complex heart defects that were "incompatible with life." Needless to say, it was fairly devastating news for new parents. The rest of the pregnancy, essentially, we spent preparing for the birth. Where would it happen? What would happen after birth? When would we bring him home? Where would home be?
I so wanted to be the typical expectant mother. My biggest worry would be whether I was breast-feeding or bottle feeding. Those newborn sized diapers in the drawer? I actually thought about whether it was impractical to buy them even - maybe by the time he got home, he'd be too big for them.
We moved out of our apartment in New York, and moved in with my parents. We didn't know what to expect and we wanted to be able to concentrate on him. The support that we would have outweighed our desire for our own sweet home. In the span of just a few weeks, our lives had completely and totally changed. New home (not our own), new job, baby on the way. I decorated my old bedroom to make a nursery for him.
Labor couldn't have been more predictable. I could be written about in textbooks. I had decided, in the hopes of giving him every advantage, to have a natural childbirth. My water broke, and about 14 hours later, he was delivered. Very quietly. It was actually one the most peaceful moments of my life. Of course, they then took him right away - I touched his cheek as soon as he came out - I knew that once he was gone, it would be some time before we would be able to see him. I stayed behind and the took him over to CHOP to get him started on the medicine that would keep him alive until his first surgery. I can't really remember too much from that first week. I held him for the first time right before they took him to surgery, but even then I knew that they only did that in case he didn't survive. It would have too much to lose him and have never held him. But, he did better than they thought. (Or better than they told us. I compare it to waiting for a table in the restaurant. They have to tell you that it'll be a 90 minute wait because then, when it's only been 60 minutes, you think they did a really great job.)
Anyway, he came home on June 14th. I think. Like I said, I don't remember too much. I was just glad when that part was done.
So that's the beginning. Since he's been home, I guess it's like having any other baby. He eats but I always worry that it's not enough. He sleeps but I worry that it's too much. He cries and I worry that it'll send him into congestive heart failure. All normal fears, right? :)
He was back in the hospital in November for part 2 of his surgery. Again, it was routine and he was sent home just in time for Thanksgiving.
Again, I think that having Sullivan has been simultaneously the most amazing and most scary thing ever. Sorry this was a long story, but now at least you're caught up.
I guess my point is just share it. Enjoy.