Tonight I was plunking away on a project for work. I was scrolling back and forth within a PowerPoint presentation looking for that magical light bulb moment when my brain decided to respond.
But instead of an ingenious idea guaranteed to garner a raise and promotion, instead the recesses of my mind decided it was time for a trip back down the rabbit hole.
Five years ago today, I was working on a project for work. I had a doctor’s appointment the following morning, so I’d let my boss know in advance I’d be a bit late into the office. I was excited. It was my first “normal” meeting with the ob-gyn.
Instead I found myself in a hospital. Locked down. Trying the last nerve of nurses.
“Do you remember the day vividly?” asked a friend.
At 21 weeks gestation, I remember the forlorn look on the doctor’s face when I asked about viability should my babies be born the week I first learned my contractions where 5 minutes apart.
He sadly shook his head.
It wasn’t good.
I wouldn’t be going home any time soon.
I missed my dogs.
Suddenly there was a question of “if” when it came to the topic of becoming a mother.
It was the first time I truly realized prematurity was my new reality.
“I don’t care what you do. You need to make your magic juju save my babies,” I yelled at my doctors. “I already love them!”
My mother made it from Los Angeles to San Jose in four hours flat. Her grandchildren were at stake. Her daughter was a sobbing mess.
Today I watched my sons frolic in the front yard. Friday there is a costume contest at school; in case there was any question these two were fighters.
They’re almost 5-years-old now.
This year, I haven’t yet had a PTSD breakdown. In fact, my struggles with mental illness were published in an anthology, Surviving Mental Illness Through Humor, in which my essay details some of the trials and tribulations of becoming a preemie mom.
Five years ago today is when I realized prematurity would become a part of my new normal. At the time, I consciously denied it – insisting my children wouldn’t be born until at least June (which was still premature, just at 28 weeks).
Today we are preparing for kindergarten.
We are the lucky ones.
Iceman: You’re everyone’s problem. That’s because every time you go up in the air, you’re unsafe. I don’t like you because you’re dangerous.
Maverick: That’s right! Ice… man. I am dangerous.