Thursday was a snow day! We went on a sled ride around the yard, had hot chocolate, ate snow with the dog… The usual.
For whatever reason, Isaac was also doing some 3 year old brain processing that day. This involved making some “phone calls” on his play phone to his birth mom. It is hard for me when he does this. He puts me on the phone to talk to her and we have a fake conversation and I act like I am thrilled to be talking to the woman who I put myself in unfair and unhealthy competition with and it is tough on me. My heart has love for both of them, but my brain likes things to be neat and organized and there is no ordering in the tangled history that envelops the three of us.
I know it is good for him to be able to talk about her. I make a point to engage in the conversations as they arise for as long as he needs, adding in bits to reassure him that that part of himself is not gone; “… the next time we see her.” It reminds me of that time I killed our class fish by bringing it home for the weekend and then forgetting about the temporary Tupperware container in the passenger side wheel well overnight in the dead of a February winter. (I made Ryan, my hero of a husband, throw out the little frozen fish-cube.) For months after, a child would randomly ask: “Do you remember Natalie?” I would say yes and they’d go back to whatever they were doing, just needing that reassurance from someone else who could put verification to their memories.
Also Thursday, my new niece got to go home from the NICU! I was so thankful that my sister and brother-in-law could get out of the hospital setting and into their own cozy home but, if I’m being honest, (which I often am to a fault), I also battled the jealousy of the care their tiny baby has gotten since even before her birth compared the the start my ‘baby’ had. Fortunately, the choice to wallow is wrapped in your perspective and I am getting better (little by little) in fighting the pity party battle. My sister who ate healthy, worked out religiously, and got the best prenatal care while carrying Morgie had a pregnancy resulting in a 2 week stay in the NICU. During this stay, a woman whose child was literally born into a toilet because she hadn’t realized she was 36 weeks pregnant got to go home before Morgie. The grass is always greener and all that.
I have faith that eventually, I will get better at handling the anger I shove around. (Although I’m learning to be alert all the while because as soon as you kick one thing- something else cracks in.) So I blog about frustrations and learn to fake it till you make it. And rest in this:
(For the record, I’m not to the delighting part yet… I am, however, banking on the strength.)