Time to write my blah, blah, blah, blah blog.
In desperation to recover and rediscover my sense of self there is undoubtedly a bit I need to get through. So here goes, I bear my heart and wounds to the world. World wide web that is.
I had always been a driver,Type= A personality that set a goal and always achieved it. Then I became a mom.
Having a son born at 26 weeks, a micro-preemie weighing 918 grams, the doctors told us we would not take him home until his due date 3 months later. I disagreed. Obviously, these doctors had no idea that I had always been an over-achiever that achieved and attained anything and everything I put out into the universe and set my sights on. His dad is kind of the same way. Naturally, our son had inherited these same genes of drive and determination and would receive the ‘memo’ that he would be going home from the hospital within about 5 weeks. Way ahead of schedule.
One hundred sixteen days later, we finally got to bring Gavin home. And he came home with monitors and nurses and all sorts of special instructions. I was drenched in sweat 24 hours a day. I was so in love with this baby boy and so terrified I was not prepared to take adequate care of him.
I did everything wrong. Because Gavin arrived so early, I hadn’t ‘researched’ vaccines. While still in hospital, the doctor asked if I wanted to vaccinate. I was taken aback – of course we would consider it but he wasn’t even supposed to have arrived at this time. The doctor, whom I inherently trusted, insisted it was safe and that we would be protecting him. Reluctantly, I agreed to the Hep B vaccination. After all, they had saved both our lives.
Instead, they gave Gavin, our now 4 pound micro-preemie, 5 shots within a 24-hour period. He went downhill fast and returned to the NICU. This is where the damage was done. He was put on Phenobarbital. He was having seizures. The doctors told us none of this.
In fact, the doctors failed to send baby home with any of his medications or prescriptions. So on top of being a first-time mother and having this little, itty-bitty baby, the doctors failed us both miserably. At the time I had no idea what had happened to either one of us and the discovery of just exactly what did happen still unfolds even as I type.
I cried and cried and cried every day for the first five years of his life. This beautiful boy had been entrusted to me and I didn’t know what to do for him. And I didn’t know what to do for myself anymore either. This ‘Driver, Type-A’ was a total wreck that had driven off the rails in search of a cliff or a brick wall.