Not What I Planned

I have spent the better part of the past 6 weeks in a frenzy of organzing projects. 


I have cleaned and reorganized my pantry, laundry room, kids' bathroom, hall closets, and storage rooms.  I've purged and purged some more.  I've sold clothes and cleaned closets and organized clothing to keep.  I've switched kids rooms, had rooms painted, purchased new furniture and hung pictures. 


I've made lists, crossed items off of those lists, and then made new lists.
 
Why?


Partly because I was "nesting" and partly because it's just who I am.  I like to have things in order... especially when I know there is change coming.  It makes me feel more calm; gives me a false sense of control.


And as the birth of Abby drew closer, I felt more desperate than ever to have things in place.  To have a plan.  To have control over my life.


Bringing home new babies has not historically gone well for me.  And as much as I love having a newborn, most of my memories of newborn babies are associated with stress, lack of sleep, and crying.  Lots and lots of crying.


All of my children have had colic.  And all of them have had horrible sleep problems as a result.  Colilc is the unexplainable, incurable, untreatable, medical mystery that plagues infants for months and months on end.  And for anyone who has experienced it, you know that it not only plagues the babies, but the parents as well.  The endless crying is not limited to the infant.  As the parent, your inability to soothe and comfort your baby often drives you to the point of desperation.... tears upon tears.

So when I think of bringing home a newborn miracle, I can't help but think of heartbeat CD's, chiropractic treatments, vacuum cleaner white noise, hours upon hours of painful crying, walking around the house in the wee hours of the night, shhhing, swaddling, bouncing, doctor appointments, inclined beds, acid reflux medications, dietary changes, and desperation.  Lots of desperation. 

And that makes me feel completely out of control.  A feeling I don't handle well.

So in the back recesses of my hormonal mind, I think I thought if I could control every other thing in my life, perhaps I could survive another bout with a colicky baby.  Without being completely aware of it, I was trying to plan for it; control it.

And so I made lists; planned for Abby to arrive into my controlled, planned environment.

Only it didn't happen that way.

Instead of going in for a scheduled, planned induction on Friday, February, 17th, I went to the hospital on Wednesday night, February 16th.  I spent all of Wednesday battling a stomach bug that not only left me dehydrated with contractions; I wasn't able to complete my very long list of items to be accomplished on Wednesday & Thursday in anticipation of Abby's birth.

And so I went to the hospital...

with many uncrossed items on my lists;
without a packed bag for myself or the baby;
without taking a "night before" picture of my belly as I had done with all of my other kids;
without a back up camera battery;
wearing pajamas and no make up;
feeling completely and desperately out of control.

Today is Sunday, February 19th and I'm still sitting in a hospital bed at Wesley.

I feel like screaming....


This is NOT What I planned!

Abby was born on Thursday... the morning after I came, unprepared, to the hospital.  No one made it to her birth.  We don't have a single picture of me holidng her right after she was born. 

Not What I Planned.

The kids didn't get to come to meet her on Thursday, wearing the special shirts I had made for the special occasion of meeting their new baby sister.  Instead, Noah came home from school and began vomiting.  Later that night, Emily and Molly got to come to meet their sister.  Molly kissed the baby on the head, held her, and then went home and threw up.

Not What I Planned.

We didn't go home on Friday. 

Not What I Planned.

Intead we went home on Saturday at 4:00 pm.  I took a shower; eager to take the scrapbook worthy "going home picture" of Abby in her new outfit.  I got her dressed and posed.  Vance held up the camera and the battery instantly died.  So we have no "going home" pictures of our 4th child.

Not What I Planned.

We finally made it home on Saturday evening.  The kids were so excited.  We had a nice dinner and Abby slept comfortably in her new inclined "Nap Nanny" that I purchased in anticipation of needing an inclined bed.   

And then I fed her.  She threw  it up.  I fed her again.  She threw it up.  She cried.  And cried.  And  cried.  She was in pain; obvious terrible pain in her stomach.  We did not sleep a wink.  We consulted with after hours doctors, took rectal temperatures, and ultimately found ourselves driving BACK to the Wesley ER 12 hours after we left.

Not What I Planned.

We had to wait for two hours in the main Wesley ER.  It was awful.  As we were checking in, a young girl came in with a horizontal cut across her neck.  No kidding... as if someone  had tried to slit her throat.  Spending time in that ER was an eye opener to a whole other world that we are fortunate not to have to witness very often.

When we finally got to a "bay" in the awful ER, they told me they would have to do bloodwork, an Xray, an Ultrasound, and start an IV... in her head.

Not What I Planned.

We were admitted for continued observation with no plan for dismissal.  Tonight marks the fifth night I have slept in a hospital bed.  Slept being a very relative term as my total hours of sleep since Abby was born approximates less than 10 hours.

Not What I Planned.

I have been ordered to stop breastfeeding and give formula for the next feedings to see if makes a difference in Abby's stomach pain.  I'm engorged, sad, and irritated that my "perfect nutrition" could potentially be causing her misery.  So I'm pumping and saving, but still hoping that I won't have to cease nursing her.  

Not What I Planned.

No one knows what is wrong.  Doctors say it's too early for it to be colic.  They say newborns shouldn't cry out in terrible gas pain at 2 and 3 days of age.  They've never seen a newborn cry in such pain for no reason.  But they don't know what I have lived. 

And so we are still here; hoping she will improve and  desperately hoping that we are not destined for the same months of misery and desperation that we have had with the past children. 

As I said, I feel like screaming...

This is NOT What I Planned!


BUT...


I am sitting here therapeutically writing this in a place that I have been fortunate enough to have never been before... a pediatric floor in a hospital.


As I type, there is a little girl circling the floor on a tricycle wearing her pink PJ's.  She is singing as she rides in circles on the floor of a hospital... she is not outside as many other children are on this gorgeous day.  But she's still singing and smiling.


And there is a little boy next door who is a playing a make believe drum.  He has no hair.  His room has been occupied for quite some time as is evident by the play space that has been set up inside the tiny square space.  There are other children in his room playing Nintendo.  They are not outside playing tag or basketball like many other children their age are on this Spring like day.  But he is still playing his drum and laughing.


So as much as I want to scream and cry and pout about my life not going like I had planned, all I have to do is look outside my door to realize that my "unplanned" situation is virtually nothing compared to the "unplanned" situations many other parents and children face.


I can't even imagine how badly they want to scream...


This is NOT What I Planned!


And so I'm doing my best to learn from this unplanned situation.  


I fear change.  I fear being out of control.  I fear the unknown.  I fear... a lot.


But I cannot control my life... no matter how many lists I make or rooms I organize.


My life and the lives of my children are in the hands of the One who gave us life.  And He does not want me to fear.  He does not want me to worry.  Or have anxiety.  And most importantly, He does not want me to hold fast to my own plans.  Or wallow in selfishness.


He wants me to let go; to rely fully and totally on Him.  To trust.  Not my plan, but His.


And so tonight, even though I feel sad about some of the things that are happening in my life; I'm much more sad for the others I know (and those that I don't) whose "This is Not What I Planned" is so, so much more difficult than mine. 


And if I have to give up dairy again, then I will.  It is a minor sacrifice.


And if I have to go through months and months of sleepless nights again, then I will try to remember those who have sleepless nights in a hospital while I am awake.


And if I don't have the right pictures of Abby's birth, it's okay.  Because at least I have Abby.


And if I have to abandon my breastfeeding, then I will do it.  I'll cry about it, but if it has to be done, then I can do it.  Some parents never have the opportunity to even try.


And if Abby has to have an IV in her head for a short period of time, I can handle it.  There are some children who have permanent IV's for much scarier reasons.


I've cried lots of tears today.  They started out as tears for myself... because this is Not What I Planned.  But tonight, the tears have turned to tears of gratefulness.  


My eyes have been opened today to my selfish nature and self-centeredness.  I know I have a right and an instinct to be worried and concerned for my baby.  And tears for those reasons are okay.  But all of the other things I've pouted about... pictures, unfinished projects, lack of sleep... well, those things just really don't matter that much in the grand scheme of things.


And so this is Not What I Planned.


And that's okay.  It will be okay.