Preemie Birthday Blues

I’ve written about how preemie birthdays are tricky here and here and here and here! And that’s probably not even the extent of it.

I used to think after the big First Birthday, preemie birthdays would get better. And they have. But, the Dark Days are still like skeletons in the closet or ghosts lurking in the room: I don’t want to acknowledge them, but they’re present no matter what I say or do. I can’t change what happened, and I can’t change that it haunts me, even though the passage of time gives me so many good memories to outweigh the bad.

On a preemie Facebook page, I once saw a mother ask if anyone else had felt sad leading up to a preemie’s birthday, and it was like someone unleashed a dam. A torrent of women rushed forward with their experiences, saying they thought no one else understood. They felt guilty for their feelings, as if they could force their way toward happiness for a day that should, in theory, be a joyous one.

And then there were the naysayers, those women who must take some satisfaction out of digging their heel into people already down: “I realize the blessing my child is, so I choose to celebrate the day.” “I could have lost my baby, so of course I enjoy his birthday!” AND, my favorite, “According to the Bible, you can’t question the will of God and be truly grateful at the same time. I am grateful for my daughter, so I don’t dwell on how she got here.”

I won’t get into a religious debate, but I have a totally different take on it. I don’t think that sadness and gratefulness are mutually exclusive. Besides, we’re discussing feelings here. Someone can’t help how she feels. You can choose what you do with your feelings, but you can’t erase a feeling just because you don’t like it. That’s terrible advice! And acting superior to someone, especially in the Preemie/Special Needs community, because you aren’t troubled by something that troubles others is problematic anyway. I kind of think it makes you a self-important, unsympathetic, a-hole, truth be known.

I’ve also noticed a difference between preemies born before 32 weeks and after. Here’s where I get on my soap box about how all preemies aren’t created equally. Some preemies skate out of the NICU in a few hours or days or weeks. Those parents are probably–but not always–less traumatized than say the families with babies hospitalized for months. So, I always want to congratulate those moms who say “I had a 34-weeker, and I’m fine with her birthday.” Good for you, but I’m not at all okay with either of my babies’ birth stories, thank-you-very-much.

So, now that I’m approaching my 4th birthday post-NICU with my first 2.5-lb baby, I can say this: It does get a little easier, but I’m still counting down the days. I’m still thinking about the girl I was four years ago. I’m thinking of that day and how it all went down. I’m remembering things said and things unsaid, things done and undone. It’s all there, just as fresh as yesterday.

The biggest difference between J’s first birthday and now? I don’t feel the need to apologize for my feelings. Birthdays are hard for me, for all the reasons I’ve said, and maybe they’ll always be hard for me. As the kids grow, I’ll celebrate with the best of them. We’ll have parties and we’ll laugh and we’ll eat cake. But, I’ll never forget where I was on that day and what happened. After all, I am my children’s mother. Even if no one else feels the pain of their early months, surely I do, and I’m entitled to it.

I accept the Preemie Birthday Blues for what it is: the anniversary of the beginning of a very difficult time, which also happened to coincide with the miracle of my baby’s birth.

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