Aidan has been at Rex for five days now, and Corey and I have been readjusting our routine around the new parameters of our day-to-day existence. I have had some time to reflect and revisit some of those little moments where the whisper of humor went almost unheard in our whirlwind of emotional disquiet.
The Out-of-Touch Nurse
Not 48 hours postpartum and just released from the hospital, I was standing in the UNC NICU numbly taking in the sight of all the tubes, machines and a very, very small Aidan George. I was sniffling and my eyes were red. A nurse came over and asked me, "Are you sick?" in a slightly alarmed, 'then-what-are-you-doing-in-here' tone.
"Uh, no."
"Oh," she says, "Allergies, huh."
"Uh, no."
Wow. Seriously?
The Over-In-Touch Nurse
The next day, a (different) nurse asked me a set of questions. She forced a nonchalant manner, but was too intently listening to my answers to sell the conversation as casual.
"So, are you sleeping okay?"
"Um, not really."
"Eating regularly?"
"Um, not really."
"Are you feeling weepy and overwhelmed a lot?"
"Well, yeah."
"Honey, do you want to talk to someone about postpartum depression?"
"Um, not really."
The first laugh I had after having Aidan
While recounting the conversation of questions above, I pointed out to my friend Nancy that trying to assess postpartum depression in a mother with a baby in a NICU is like assessing a two-year-old with ADHD - there's no way to distinguish the expected reality with 'symptoms' of a condition. She agreed and said: "Erica, you just tell them:
"No, I'm not okay, but I know that I'm not okay...
...and I'm okay with that."
Jealous big brother tries to steer the car
Nathaniel has been really amazing. We have video and memories of moments with him saying the most adorable, sweet, gentle things. However, good old sibling rivalry doesn't seem to take long to settle in, either. While in the car starting off on one of the long 45 minute drives to Chapel Hill, Corey and I announce, "We're coming baby Aidan!" as was our custom in order to give Nathaniel a heads-up of what was to come. He had always repeated it before, but this time there was this long pause as he contemplated our proposition. Then, he brightly suggested, "We're coming Nana!"
Daddy makes lunch
We are aware that even under normal circumstances, a two-year-old wants control and independence. As such, even amongst the chaos, we offer him choices as often as possible. So, one random day Corey and I were scrambling to get things in order to go visit Aidan. I was pumping (again) and Corey was making Nathaniel a sandwich for lunch:
"Nathaniel, do you want your sandwich cut in squares or triangles?"
"No triangles!"
"You want it in squares, then?"
"No kwares!"
"Rectangles?"
"No 'ectangles!"
"Circles?"
"No irr-cals!"
"Trapezoids?"
"No appy-zoids!"
"Polygons?"
"No olly-gones!!!"
"Dodecahedrons?"
Nathaniel's only response to this was a stony silence at the prospect of having to repeat this shape's name in order to say 'no'. Satisfied, my husband turned to me.
"Honey, how many sides are in a dodecahedron?