Fast forward 4 weeks and this is where my story begins...
I was headed home from school the day after Mothers Day 2003, I was feeling queasy and paranoid, so I decided to picked up a cheap pregnancy test to calm my nerves. I went home and took the test. Even before I turned to wash my hands, there were some crazy lines showing up on the test. My mind raced, "What the hell, stupid cheap test, I need name brand!" One hour and 2 tests later, it was confirmed - I was knocked up. So I did what any responsible young adult would do after finding out that news, stood out on my balcony, smoked 3 cigs and cried.
About 29 weeks along, at a routine doctors appointment, my doctor noticed unusually high blood pressure and some swelling. It was a matter of days before I was put on bed rest in the hospital with preeclampsia. The few weeks I spent in the hospital were the lowest and most depressing of my life. I spent my days reading books about the day by day progression of my pregnancy and sleeping. I didn't want to see anyone and felt completely sorry for myself.
I was 33 weeks and 1 day along with the doctor came in and said, "Put that cinnamon roll down... if I was a betting man, I'd say there will be a baby today." My heart stopped mid beat. I'm not really sure what I thought had been going on the last few months, but for some reason it wasn't until those words that I realized there was a baby and he's too little and he was coming. 100% of my focus left myself instantly and sheer panic entered my heart for the little baby coming too early... The book had said, make it until 34 weeks and you're good... I was only 33.
During the cesarean delivery, I could only think of one thing, something my doctor had said during my first prenatal visit. "Sorry I'm late, I had to deliver a preemie... he could breath on his own though, that makes such a difference." I literally could not think of anything else, "If he can breath on his own, it will make such a difference. If he can breath on this own, it will make such a difference." At 12:32 pm, Friday, November 14, 2003 Pickle Head was born a whopping 4 lb 1oz and screaming at the top of his little working lungs. Almost exactly 2 weeks later, our healthy little boy was sent home with us. That's when everyone sighed in relief. Well, everyone but me, that's when my worry really kicked in.
I worried sick about EVERYTHING. One time I almost had a panic attach because I wasn't sure if I rinsed his bottle well enough after washing it. He would spend days, and I mean truly days, without crying. I worried about that. He was so well behaved that I knew it was freakish and that too... you guessed it, worried me. I'm very sure I lost years of my life the first few months of his life, simply from lack of sleep (you know, because I was up watching him while he was SLEEPING the night through) and worry. I remember looking at him with the real literal thought in my head that he was too good to be true.
Pickle, he is 7, tan skinned and dark featured like his father. A mini-me of Mac really, you wouldn't know he was mine if it wasn't for his personality and crazy obsession with sweets. He's still pretty well behaved but I'd say he's lost the freakishly good label. One thing that hasn't changed though is my worry for him. For some reason I still worry sick about him. In preschool, he lost a little pigment around his left eye. The dermatologist said there is really no way to know if that would every spread or why it happened. I sometimes stay up night thinking about the challenges that would cause him if it spread and I panic I won't be able to prepare him. Two Christmas's ago he started a weird tick with his eyes and I spent months thinking of brain tumors and tourettes. The real truth, though, is I'm crazy and he is a healthy and smart and the most amazing boy ever. He's the Original Gangster and he made us a family.
Promise update: So I sent the link to a couple of friends and they are reading it or at least clicked on it =) Thanks guys
Promise 8: Spend a couple of hours really playing and talking to Pickle. It's time to appreciate the OG
**S**
Crying Really?
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