Am I the only one in the world who prefers to remain blissfully ignorant?
Ace's nurse told me today that he might go home on an oxygen cannula. Like I don't have enough to worry about. She followed it up with a hearty "I just want you to be prepared for the possibility." Yeah, thanks. There's a possibility he'll have a myriad of physical and neurological abnormalities, you wanna just go ahead and rattle those off so I can obsess?
My husband says "Don't you want to be mentally prepared, so they don't just plop Ace in one arm and the oxygen tank in the other and send you home?"
In a word, no. How about, "He's ready to go home, but he's going to need to be on oxygen for a while. Here's what you have to do." No, I won't feel blindsided. I'll feel extraordinary that my baby's coming home. The oxygen will just be added to the list of things that I'm going to face while taking care of a preemie. Don't hand that to me to obsess over, like it's totally normal for you to send kids home on a damn nasal cannula and a monitor.
Sorry to rant, but that's made me mad ever since I left the hospital earlier. I know, an oxygen cannula might seem like such a little thing, but I've had so many hopes and dreams crapped on over the past few months, why can't I just come home with a baby who is healthy despite his prematurity, or foster the vain hope that I'll do so?
It's just like if you'd have told me that I would go through PCOS, an ectopic pregnancy, endometriosis, surgery, fertility drugs, my water breaking too damn early, delivering my baby 11 weeks early, and a wound vac, I would have dreaded every second of it. Instead, I appreciate the fact that I hold on to some hope of normalcy, and get every bit of it dashed to the wind in the end.
Blissful ignorance. It's the way to go. Although the "blissful" part can only go so far. I'm teetering on bitter here.
1 week ago