Be careful what you wish for......

For the last few weeks I have been pining for a break. Taking care of the Afro Boy has become exhausting to me as my third trimester mercifully is coming to an end. I love children and I especially love mine but I am not a woman who naturally loves pregnancy and frankly I think all women are ready to be done w/their pregnancies at this point.

On Wednesday night I found myself in the Labor and Delivery wing of the hospital where June Bug will be delivered. After 10 hours of painful contractions and the promise of an emergency c-section (the hope that the Lord was delivering me early from further incubating my daughter) - my doctor came in and announced that I had not dilated at all during that time and she was sending me home (this after local and long distance calls had been made alerting family and family of choice).

Words cannot express the angst that my doctor's announcement caused inside of me. The only thing that snapped me out of it was hearing that the June Bug's lungs could still be developing and that delivery at this time might result in the birth of a baby who could not come home. In my circle of the Fab Four, Fab Four #1 went into labor a month older and had a son who almost died, was in the hospital for a long time before he could come home and my dear friend went through hell waiting to hear that her son would be okay. Now flash to Fab Four #2 who has delivered two boys, went in to labor early both times and both boys were perfectly fine. When my doctor insinuated that the June Bug could end up in the NICU unit, I did not think of FF#2, I thought of FF#1 and pulled myself together. I also felt like the smallest person on the planet that in my haste to put an end to my pregnancy discomforts, I failed to consider my daughter's best interest first. Good thing she's learning early that I'm not perfect.

But I digress....

So I am now on modified bedrest and have been ordered not be the primary caretaker of the Afro Boy. Thanks to the in-laws and the Monkey, I had time to plug in more support than I actually need for 5 days that I am home alone. (A 3 day weekend didn't hurt either) I am blessed with abundance in my circle.

I seem to also be blessed with irony as a repeating instrument for enlightenment. While I thought it would be restful and relaxing to be ordered to stop caring for my son, it is not. Afro Boy is currently not at his best - he is cutting two-year molars, has a cold, and is keenly aware that something big is on the horizon. This results in a child whose new favorite pastime is to plaster himself to my burgeoning belly and melt into a tantruming puddle at any sign that he might be removed. When he cut his first teeth, he nursed, it seemed, non-stop. He had to be next to me at all times except at night when he was asleep. Little it seems, has changed.

Rather than enjoying my imposed "time-out", I am plagued with the guilt of not being able to parent my child in the way that we are both accustomed. It is pushing all my buttons, including the abandonment buttons. Somehow, even though I know it's not the TRUTH, I feel that I am abandoning him the way I was abandoned. IT IS NOT THE TRUTH!!!!! But that button got pushed so badly tonight that I was in tears over his tears.

WHAT IS THE TRUTH??????

The truth is that this is a difficult time. It is a time when I have to ask for help. It is a time when I have to let go. It is a time when I have to trust others. None of these are strengths that I possess in any way. Yet my health and the health of my unborn daughter are contingent on the success of my surrender to doing things a different way. I think ultimately, the mental health of my son will be better for experiencing all the care that come with community, with tribe. In the short-term, I struggle with projecting my own baggage on to him and seeing deeper wounds than what are really there. Yes this is a hard time for him, and yes thank God he is resilient. Tomorrow, he will have forgotten the incidents of today that were so challenging for me that I was driven to my blog. This is the TRUTH. I do not need to deposit rolls of quarters into his therapy jar. (thank you ff#1)

Thankfully, this blog often serves as a prayer because this is a time for whatever kind of prayer I can muster on my own and for all the prayers that I can receive....