Dear Beatrice,
I wanted to do something for your birthday, as you’re turning 2, this year.
Last year I created a video on socials with lots of pictures from your first year of life.
I was going through the same pictures this year, and I just realised: girl, it's been an incredible roller coaster for me, but what a ride it's been for you!
My beautiful daughter, we have gone through such an intense journey and sometimes I'm so focused on healing and getting over my traumas, that I forget that you have had the same if not much worse traumas!
Yes, it's been a trauma for me not to have skin to skin with you for the first seven weeks of your life, but this also means that you didn't have skin to skin with your mom for the first seven weeks of your life.
I had to experience the overwhelm of many hours of labour and an emergency caesarean where they immediately took my baby from me; but it must have been horrendous for you to go straight from the womb to a room full of strangers.
I was deprived of breastfeeding, sure; but you are the one who got a tube inserted down her nose and throat for 14 months.
And it must have been quite annoying, since many, many times we ended up in emergency because you pulled it out, cheeky girl!
Yes, sure, you have a rare syndrome and everything… But certainly, we have to admit that you are incredibly resourceful when you want to achieve a goal!
I couldn't spend the night with you for weeks, but it's also true that you couldn't spend the night with your family, for weeks. You were in a bed in Neonatal ICU, attached to lots of tubes, surrounded by sounds, lights and other crying babies, instead of your quiet, warm bassinet at home, with your parents and your dogs.
The first year of your life you were barely laughing, and when you finally started smiling and enjoying tickles, you were still not making eye contact with any of us.
Who can blame you?
You were still recovering from the open-heart surgery you had when you were 8 days old. They said you were not in pain, but girl, between you and me: I hate them when they say these things.
First of all: how do they know? Have they had a heart surgery when they were newborns? Do they remember that after 6 weeks it wasn’t that painful anymore?
Second of all: I know grown-ups who have complained for months after their surgeries, and their procedures were certainly not as invasive as having the chest open for 2 days, before they could close you back. Personally, I know that, after 2 years, my caesarean scar is still a bit sore when I press it.
So yes, it is very plausible that you’ve been in pain for months. End of story.
And your reflux. Oh girl. So many tests, trying to understand if it was just reflux or if there was something more! CT scans, ultrasounds, milk study, X-rays. And that little doctor who was minimising “It’s just bad reflux”, “She’s just one of those babies who cry a lot”. By the way: when I say little doctor I mean literally and metaphorically speaking.
I was so happy when we flicked him off our medical team, like you flick a mosquito off of your shoulder. Pa-ching!
One of the worst things, about all the hospital admissions you had, was the attempts to insert a cannula in your small, fragile veins.
We spent hours, holding you still on those hospital beds, while the doctors and anaesthetists were poking you again and again, and you were so desperate, almost fainting from exhaustion.
Every time we were experiencing the same story: they were trying to give you some sucrose, because “Oh, that should calm her down” and every time I was telling them “Don’t do it. You are going to upset her even more”.
And every time the whole story finished with me saying “I told you so”. Classic.
I could go on and on with these memories, for hours.
But I will not focus on these memories anymore. Not today.
Today I will focus on the fact that you made it through, Beatrice.
After all those procedures, after all that pain, you are here and you're thriving.
You finally trust other people, not just mum and dad. You still hate doctors, but that's OK because I hate them too.
And I'll tell you a secret: everybody hates doctors! They know it and when they go to the doctor, they hate doctors too.
Baby girl, you have not been admitted in a hospital for a year now. How cool is that?
Yes, we still go to different therapies, every single week. And that's exhausting for the both of us.
But you are stable, and you are happy, genuinely happy.
The most beautiful moments for me, at this stage, are when you're lying on the changing table, and I tickle you.
You look straight into my eyes, and you smile at me. And we laugh together.
You enjoy it, you ask for more tickles, and you are already laughing in anticipation of what’s coming next.
And that is so amazing!
Look at us: the mom and daughter who got separated 2 seconds after you were born; the mom and daughter who could never latch; the mum and daughter who did not have skin to skin for weeks.
Day by day we have learned to bond in so many other ways, that now we just need to look at each other for one second and we already know what the other one is thinking.
This is so healing because all this time, for the past two years, I felt so incredibly guilty for how hard your first year of life has been for you.
And don't tell me I shouldn't feel guilty because that's a momma thing. We feel guilty all the time, that's our specialty. You can tell we are mothers before we even tell you if we have kids.
If people ask you “Do you feel accountable?”. “Yes”. Well then you're an adult.
If people ask you “do you feel guilty?”. “Yes”. Well then you're a mum.
Now, the sense of guilt of the first year of your life is finally losing its grip on my poor Mamma’s heart, And I feel grateful.
I'm grateful because this whole time you have allowed me to try my best.
You have allowed me to bring you to multiple specialists, to figure out what was causing your distress.
You have allowed me to drive you to therapies every single week since you were five months old.
You have allowed me to show you that tickles are fun, that my homemade food is delicious, that people can be trusted. And even doctors sometimes can be trusted!
You are a gorgeous, little toddler who is showing the world how meaningful, how joyful, how inspiring life can be.
Thank you for being you, Beatrice.
Happy birthday, girl.
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