Thursday, March 24, 2016

Never Really Mine

It's hard to admit but I never really bonded Trey the way I imagined I would.  The way I imagined most mothers do. The truth is I only had 36 weeks to squeeze in a lifetime of bonding.  Two of those weeks were spent in hospitals trying not to go crazy with worry about what was happening to our little bit.  While most mothers are enjoying skin-to-skin and weathering breastfeeding at all hours of the day and night, I had to settle for pumping in a small sterile room alone wondering if and when my son would enjoy the fruits of my labor.  Long awaited skin-to-skin was replaced with 5 minutes of positioning, tube maneuvering, cord wrestling and iv avoidance to be sure that he was safe and comfortable. Leaving the hospital as a duo instead of a family of three was not the norm but our reality, and a devastating one at that.  Nearly two weeks of worry and increasingly daunting news does not foster bonding. Then the time we thought we had with him was cut short.

This pity party is brought to you by the fact that I was merely a vessile to carry his failing body. 

To be clear, he is and always will be out son and first born.

That train of thought leaves the station and at the first stop is met with the folks that believe in "the plan".  So if this was "the plan" all along, was he ever really mine?

Next stop, the town where "everything happens for a reason" is the town motto.  Well, if everything happens for a reason, was he ever really mine?

Yet another stop where

Now into a city of hope and a promise that you will have more children.  if I was only supposed to have other children that are living, was he ever really mine?

There is no end of the line, this train of thought rose is truly a round
 trip and I can never get off.  And as I travel around and around a lake of grief I can't help but wonder if he was ever really mine.