So I was reading Kristin's post on how weird it feels for her to think of meeting her daughter, alive. For me, that's how it feels when I think of having this baby, and realizing she might just be ok. That is incomprehensible for me. I literally can't imagine what it would be like to have her, and keep her. For so long I only had "visitation rights" with The Boy, but he was never really mine. He was the hospitals. I don't know what it's like to wake up and just roll over to see your baby, to check if she's still breathing. I've never had that. I can still remember waking up each morning in a complete panic, terrified to pick up the phone and just ask how you were, because I was so very afraid of bad news. I was so in love with this little human, who was barely clinging to life, and for no reason at all. I would sell my soul over and over to take away the pain and uncertainty that was the first two years of your life, to make you whole, normal, pain free, and just let you live life. No medicine, no therapists, no special schools. No things that make you DIFFERENT. I hate that, I hate that something as small as one dumb person's mistake did this to you Boy....it's not fair. I have a feeling this will be my mantra for the rest of my life. That's becuase it's not, not at all.
Now, I feel so supremely guilty that I am even feeling sorry for myself here. So many of my friends (real, and here, on the computer) have had to go through a REAL loss, not just a temporary one. They didn't get to walk back into the hospital after a doctor worked on their babies for two hours to see you with a beating heart again. But I did. I should feel so extrordinarily lucky. Much more so than I do. I just don't. I feel guilty, horribly, sickeningly guilty, that this happened. I was too afraid to stick up for myself, to go against a doctor. He obviously knew my body better than I did, I mean, he went to school for this. On that count, you had to suffer more than most adults I'll ever meet. In the few short weeks after your birth. You've had countless surgeries, blood draws, needless medical tests, and traumatic hospital and doctor visits that really have scarred you for life. Just because ONE PERSON couldn't be bothered to get off their high horse and admit they may not be all seeing. And all because your Mama didn't know any better.
I'm so sooo sick and tired of hearing "Well, at least he's fine now". He's not, never will be, never has been. That's just life. He'll always be covered in scars, he'll always be permanently different. He can't play sports, join the military, just be as much of a BOY as he was obviously born to be. His life was changed, completely altered and thrown off track because of this, and it's my fault. I hate that. I hate myself for it. There's just no excuse.