Mama Unraveled!

As the days go on, I've stopped holding my breath and I've learned to breath again, breath through the painful times.  I've learned, it's just a cleft lip, probably a cleft palate (they say 90%, with the occurrence of a cleft lip.)  Yes, it'll be a struggle.  They say life isn't easy, and they don't lie.  The heartache and the pained thoughts still remain, but I know I just have to work through it all a piece at a time.

To some people my feelings will be trivial.  I know to some a cleft lip is nothing and I'm being  .  I know there are much bigger problems in the world.  For the person who loses a child or can't have a child: I've been there too.  Or the person who wishes their baby "just" had a cleft.  But, for the mother who hears my news, shocking news of a deformity on the child you have longed for, the perfect little bundle you dreamed about for 2 years, from conception til birth... those dreams are shattered in that moment.  Those dreams need time and process to rebuild.  It's hard to do that when you are left waiting for answers.  You have to wait for an ultrasound to confirm more then just the "maybes" you were told.  Wait to hold your baby, wondering every second of everyday: What will he look like?  What else could possibly be wrong with him?  Is he otherwise healthy?  Just wanting him in your arms already to know for sure he is alright.  To see for yourself, to take it in, and to know HE IS OK.  If I hadn't already been feeling worried for the last 9 months, I certainly am now.  The worry just intensifies.  I want to hold my baby: Now!

And, the LAST thing I want to hear is, Maybe he doesn't have a cleft lip, Shannon.  Maybe he was just making a funny face.  You never know.  I've accepted it already. (sorta).  I'm not happy about it, but let's not kid, I know it's there.  The doctors are rarely wrong about what they see, unless of course, they accidentally put someone else's scan in my chart: Unlikely.  I don't want to take two steps back.  I want to move only forward.  I am due in 3 weeks, and I don't have time to be pretending this isn't happening.  Unfortunately, you need friends and family to get you through, but SORRY (I am really sorry), there is no right thing to say.  Thank you for just being there though, when I need to cry or talk.

I am supposed to write a list of questions to ask the "Craniofacial team"-- A word I can not get out of my head, meaning: an overwhelming team, of who knows how many people, all for one tiny little baby.  I want to know how bad it is, what special feeding tools I need?  Clothes?  Eating?  Have I bought all the wrong baby things?  Do I need to return most of my registry?  How expensive is this going to be, supply-wise?  Cause I looked up those bottles: $34 a piece!  I was hoping not to have to pay for formula, but now I might.  What are my chances of breast feeding?  I'll have to pump, but I can't afford a good pump.  The last time I bought a hand held manual pump, I ran out of milk in 3 months.  All the normal items you can find on any googled "question list", I have those questions, all of them!

That left me with all the non-medical related jumble that no one could give me the answers to.  The mess that was left, that only I could sort out.  By sort out I mean, I probably will never have the answers I want, so how do I begin to deal with them and accept filing them into the "let it go/forget about it" pile.  First, acknowledge as many of the questions as you can identify (preferably getting through all of them without breaking down into tears after the very first one). 

So, here goes-- bear with me:
What did I do wrong?  I told everyone I didn't want anymore kids, but I secretly did, still do, I think.  Would this happen again?  What am I going to do?  Will I be up all night feeding?  Will it take hours to feed him one bottle?  I have visions of a struggling mom trying to squeeze bottles of milk into a frustrated, hungry, crying baby's wide open mouth.  What if I cant figure out how to do it?  What if I cant find the patience I am going to desperately need, on no sleep?  I can only imagine an unhealthy, under-nourished baby, spitting up constantly.  Me, not getting it right and A LOT of tears and frustration from both parties.  What if when they hand him to me and I can't hold him?  What if I am scared to look at him?  What if I think he is ugly?  Everyone will see him like this.  What will they say behind my back?  What will they think?  I don't even know how this happened.  How can I begin to explain this to anyone?  How will I tell people?  I want people to know before they see him.  I don't want people just staring at him and not saying anything out of shock.  What will I tell Addison?  How can a 3 year old comprehend this?  She'll say child-like, innocent statements or questions about how his face looks and I wont know what to say.  What will he think one day...?  Will he judge me, hate me, forgive me, understand?  Will he get teased?  What will it look like when they fix it?  I know the scar will be there, always.  Will he be unhappy one day, because of everything he had to endure?

The surgeries, the pain, the worry?  No one in my family has ever had surgery-- EXCEPT, my father, my dead-from-an-allergic-reaction-to-anesthesia-father-- OH GOD PLEASE NO!  And I cry.  I cant do this!  The waiting in a quiet hospital holding room to think for hours if there were any genetic complications.  No one can tell me, its just a routine surgery and expect that to take my fear away.  I imagine I kissed my daddy that day, if I was lucky, and got an "I'll see you later" for his routine surgery.  My fears are all still flooding with emotion.  I want this baby, this very baby-- just the way he is.  I know there is so much that goes with it, but I fought for this baby.  This was my child.  The one I begged for night and day, with every cycle come and gone.  The one I tried so hard for,  I almost lost sight of the love of my life, right there next to me, trying with me, for me.  The little egg I thought I was going to lose for the first 13 weeks.  The one I cried to hold onto, after losing the last few.  I want him to look different, for his sake, to spare him.  For my sake.  I cry and beg to feel differently about all this, but I don't.  I love him, I want him, but I am so afraid to reject him, to lose him.  I am afraid to think he is anything less the beautiful and perfect.  I dreamed of a flawless baby and right there in the very center of his face-- where it all comes together, that the world will notice-- is a deformity.  I am drained, exhausted from thinking.  I am afraid.