What wasn't there.. dedicated to my fellow preemie mothers

Dear people,

It is the evening before Loki's fifth birthday. Our once tiny elf will be five years old tomorrow. It is a big deal. It probably always will be a big deal. Not only was Loki born extremely prematurely, he has some rather serious lingering health issues with his kidney.

Most years on this day I reminisce about what is, where we are, where we come from and how amazing it is we find ourselves yet a year older with many new and beautiful developments. Although this is all still true today, I won't go there right now. I am choosing to share a very personal story about what I am experiencing now, the eve of Loki's 5th birthday.

I have not written, nor talked, much about what we did not have. This is odd, of course. Why think about what one does not have? Why pain my brain and heart with what is not, when what we have is so much better than we dared to hope for when Loki was born? The reason is simple, like any mother I had hopes, dreams, expectations about what motherhood would bring. I fantasized about what kind of a mother I would be and how my healthy and happy child would thrive. For the first time in five years I dare to look at these hopes and dreams and feel the reality of what is not. I did not experience a healthy pregnancy, where I would grow together with my child, proudly sticking my stomach in the air, showing off my ever growing bump. Except for one very obvious move, I did not feel my child move around in my womb, there just was not enough space. My partner did not feel his child move and kick while having his hand on my belly. There was no home birth, there was not a vaginal birth, there was no doulah no midwife. We did not have our own music, no room filled with love and excitement for what was about to be happen. There were no weeks following Loki's birth where we could figure out parenthood together. No first bath, no holding my baby, cuddling after breastfeeding, napping with baby next to me. There were no regular toddler years where I could explore the world with my child, playing with friends, without worrying about germs, illnesses, the next hospital stay. There have not been many fun family meals, where how much goes and stays in is not carefully watched. I have not had the energy to fill the house with fun art projects or go on forest walks collecting seasonal treasures with the love and dedication I remember from my own mother.

There is a lot I had hoped for, and still we have so much more than I dared hoping for when Loki was born.... I think I survived alright, I think I have done okay considering the circumstances. But dear, dear people, our story was not my dream, not even close. We move forward enough to make this experience a safe one. As exhausting as it may be, I do feel that allowing and acknowledging these emotions help me become more of the mother I can and want to be. I want to be attentive and warm, loving and encouraging. With an unopened backpack filled with sadness, I feel worn down. So I am opening up this luggage, look at it and shed all the tears I held on to for all those years. I grieve those lost dreams........I grieve the loss of "normal."

I want to dedicate this post to all preemie mothers I know personally or who read this blog. Some of you are very dear friends, whom I know, understand exactly what I am talking about. I dedicate this writing to you wonderful woman, who protects and moves forward on a daily basis, despite major challenges on your road. I dedicate this to you dear friend, because I know from your personal story, that you have wandered very similar paths. I hold you so dear in my heart and I thank you for entrusting me with your story, it helps me just to know you are there! Thank you!