Moving On

Today, I had a moment where I felt like I just couldn't do the NICU anymore. I think it's because today is NICU Nurse's Day, so my normal social media news feed was full of preemie baby pictures and (much deserved!) notes of gratitude for Nick's nurses that I am friends with. One of the reasons why I started an Instagram account to coincide with my blog was so that I could keep my NICU related accounts/activities separate from my "normal" social media, so I think seeing so much preemie talk on my personal Facebook made today a little more emotionally tiring (even if it was for the best cause!)

It's funny how our minds work. One of the things I am working on in therapy is the fact that I literally never stop thinking about my pregnancy and the NICU. I replay images, conversations, sensations, etc, on repeat all day in my head. It's like listening to the same song over and over again, except instead of a song, it's the same thoughts and memories over and over and over…and then the more I dwell on certain memories, the more anxious I become, and before long I'm totally wrapped up in my own head. Staying home with my kids this year makes it especially challenging, because on most days I have little to no adult interaction (besides my husband,) and, since I'm around Nick 24/7, it's so hard to stop myself from thinking about his birth.

I also know I'm not helping myself by choosing to write this blog and run this account, because I'm willingly bringing myself back to the NICU every day. I could just delete this account, erase my blog, stop writing, and totally block out everything that reminds me of our time in the hospital. On some days I think this would help-to make a clean break and just acknowledge that I had a difficult pregnancy, and that Nick was born 10 weeks prematurely and spent eight weeks in the NICU, and leave it at that. It was just something that happened to us, and there's no reason to keep dwelling and dwelling and talking and writing about it. I have to eventually get over it, and it's tempting just to make up my mind that the NICU is in the past and close the emotional door on it completely. Thousands of babies around the world get admitted to the NICU every year, and we certainly aren't unique. And yet.

There's memories that pop into my head, like the one I was thinking of today: On the day after Nick was born, I remember asking one of his nurses when I would be able to take him home. She responded that he was at least five weeks away from being able to eat on his own, so it would be a minimum of five weeks until he could leave, but I should plan on Nick staying until his due date, ten weeks away. I remember not being able to breathe and thinking that was the worst thing anyone has ever said to me. It's memories like that, that are still so fresh and still make me cry, that I feel like I need to talk about. I've also always been a big believer in the idea that everything we experience in life is for a reason. I've thought about doing this-writing and advocating for NICU families-for a living, and am in the process of applying to some graduate programs in social work to potentially pursue a career as a perinatal social worker. Starting a brand new career would be a good explanation as to why I had a pregnancy complication that only 1% of all pregnant women experience. It's a lot easier to try and read meaning into a totally random, out of the blue health complication than to accept that the NICU was just something that happened and move on with my life. But still, it's me willingly inserting myself back into the NICU world, and I don't know if I could handle living the NICU day in and day out for the rest of my professional career.

I'm sorry this post is rambling, but that's how I feel my mind is these days. I keep telling my husband that I'm having an almost-30-year-old life crisis, but it's true. I went through this incredible, life changing experience less than a year ago, and I don't know how to just put it all in my pocket and move on.