Two Worlds

Most days, I feel like I live in two different worlds.  Depending on the day or my mood, I might feel like I’m 90% in one world and 10% in the other.  The next day, it might be the complete opposite.  I know that it is really just one world that I live in, but I can't help but separate them sometimes in my head and my heart.  And it would be naïve of me to try to live in just one of them.  Just to give you an idea of what these two worlds look like…

In one world, I have a bright, funny, loving three year old who loves preschool.  In the other, I have the same bright, funny, loving three year old who also sees three different therapists and a multitude of specialists, while still managing to love life.

In one world, I prepare our baby girl’s nursery with new paint, new curtains and hand-me-down toys and books from her big brother.  In the other, I have already packed my hospital bag in preparation for her possible early arrival.

A glimpse into baby girls' room.

In one world, I have conversations with my MFM about due dates and scheduling my repeat c-section.  In the other, I hesitantly ask my MFM what gestation is considered viable at our hospital and whether parents are included in the decision-making about what kind of interventions and care to provide at that gestation.  

In one world, I go into our 20-week anatomy scan, looking forward to guessing the gender before the tech does!  In the other, I’m asking questions about fluid levels, 3-vessel cords, heart defects and appropriate size.  

In one world, I’m making lists of baby names.  In the other, I record my daily glucose levels, my blood pressure readings and am hyper-aware of any signs of preeclampsia setting in.  

In one world, I am trying to make the next few months as fun for Jack as I can, while he’s still an only child.  In the other world, the thought hits every so often that I'm squeezing in good times and making memories for Jack, just in case something were happen to me.

In one world, the 112-day NICU stay is in the past.  In the other, prematurity is always present. 

In one world, I try not to read or hear about prematurity like I used to because my knowledge scares me more to think what might happen again than to think about what already happened.  In the other world, I’ve read two biographical books just this week written by parents of premature babies.  

In one world, I can for days without that deep-down feeling.  In the other, that deep-down feeling grabs a hold of my heart and twists it so hard I can’t breathe.

In one world, I don’t shed a tear for weeks.  In the other, just typing the previous sentence about that deep-down feeling causes me to sob…instantly.  

In both worlds, I read through the “What to Expect Book” each week, hoping to get past the bookmark that I left on Week 28 three years ago.  

My bookmark is an appointment card for an appointment that I never attended because Jack had already arrived.