Employment

Dear Charlotte,

Today is just one of those days. Maybe its because Mother's Day is around the corner, maybe it's because Daddy is out of town, or because we've had to experience the loss of a grandparent. Or maybe it's just because its raining today. Who knows. These days come and go without a mention of return, without a warning of arrival.

We're so proud of you little girl. We're so amazed by how well you are doing. We're so blessed to have the smiling, interactive baby that we have. Because we know how bad it could have been. We know too many who have faced headstones and caskets, too many who have never had their children look into their eyes. We'll never, ever understand how bad it could have been-- no one can; no one who has not actually laid their child to rest can ever understand. But we know of it. We've lived around it and in it and we've walked through it.

Despite our knowledge, on days like today, I feel marginalized. As though the whole of society continues about their days, supporting causes like "Breastfeeding in Public" and "Home Births for All" and I want to scream. I want to scream, not because I am angry at their causes. Not because I do not believe in their vision.

Rather, I want to scream because I just want your situation be noticed. I want someone to understand. I want the world to know that not everyone gets a "choice" in their birthing plan, nor do they care. Those people are more worried about the ventilator settings and the results of blood tests. They are more concerned about MRI results and ultrasound findings. Those people just want their baby to live, forget how they entered the world.

I want your journey to be recognized by those who have not had to take this path. I want to be understood by people who have not spent months upon months in the NICU. I want to feel as though others are concerned, others are devoted to your cause, not because they too have been touched by this plight, but because it is something that has been normalized, something that has been accepted, confronted and recognized. I want to not have to educate so many on the effects of prematurity. I want to be able to explain that my daughter was born 16 weeks early and have someone understand just a little about what that means. Just as a cancer patient does not have to explain how difficult chemo is, I want a basis of understanding.

I know that understanding only comes through education. I know that I have a job to do. I know that as a parent of a premature child, the only way prematurity will ever be understood is if I help to educate those I interact with on a daily basis. But on days like today, I just want to curl up in bed and cry. I didn't ask for this job, and I really don't want it.

And then I look at you, and my feelings of pity and frustration feel trite and ridiculous.

I wanted you. I want you.

And I have you.

If I have to take this job to get you, I'll do it a million times over.

Consider my position full time.

Your Faithful Employee-
Mama