When you know you are done having children, everything about your littlest is precious, and every stage you outgrow is either bittersweet (time to regift newborn onesies...) or a downright celebration (I never have to change a meconium diaper ever again!).
The nice thing is you can anticipate when these "ends" are coming, particularly with your second child because you've done it once before, and emotionally prepare yourself. Which is why surprise "ends" are so hard. Especially when it is the end of something significant. Not only am I not ready because Sullivan is still my tiny little, I'm not ready because I know I'll never have the opportunity to do this thing again.
On Monday I had an echo which I was completely expecting to show a perfectly health heart, just like it had in June. We were doing the procedure because my cardiologist here wanted to rule out a condition that he said was near impossible for me to have based on my level of functioning and clinical presentation, but, he had told me in the office, if you do have it we would need to start treatment immediately (meaning not wait for the second opinion in Minnesota). He was unhappy that my arrhythmia seemed to be getting worse, not better, after delivery- things just weren't adding up.
The guy that did the echo was wonderful. We were chatting about our kids and about how his wife made him put up so many Christmas lights he is pretty sure their house is going to burn down when I noticed he was measuring my left ventricle over and over again, and right at that moment he asked me, "Did you feel very tired after your son was born?". I could see my heart rate on the screen go from 60 to 90 and I blubbered out, "No I felt great! He is such a good sleeper! I don't think I had a sleep-deprived day in the first 2 months!" , he was studying the screen, still remeasuring the same part of my heart, and I said, "You aren't asking how good of a sleeper he is, are you." He then went through the pictures and showed me what he was seeing. I asked questions like, "Could it be from my arrhythmia being strong for three months?" I even asked, "Could this be deconditioning? The most I've exercised in over a year was a jog last week and I only made it two blocks." He shook his head. He started talking to me about contractility, and I just looked at him puzzled, I didn't understand what he was trying to tell me. Then Thomas did something totally awesome. He cleaned off the ultrasound head, lifted up his shirt, and gave himself an echo. His heart was beating on the screen next to mine. "Do you see how strong the squeeze is? I'm 31 years old. Your heart should look like mine." It all made sense after that. I looked at Thomas and said, "Well shit." And he looked back and me and said, "Well shit is right."
After the exam the cardiologist came in and pulled up a chair next to me. He explained that I have a mild peripartum cardiomyopathy and needed to start beta blockers that day. (He completely expects the treatment to work and my heart should recover back to 100% within a year). I got the same "you cannot have another baby speech" we've heard from every doctor I've seen in the last year, as well as being told that as soon as I took my first dose that afternoon, I needed to stop breastfeeding. Entirely and immediately. Enter: loads of tears. I have fought and fought and fought to feed Sullivan, Between regular lactation consultant appointments, supplements, teas, elimination diets-- every hurdle that has come up, we jumped it my baby and I. And amazingly, breastfeeding had been successful for three good, long months. But whammo, like that, it was to end. When I got home I held him to my chest and wept on top of his little peanut head, and when it came time for my last time to nurse him I cried through the whole beautiful thing. Two days later we are both still adjusting. I have very confused rock hard boobs that don't understand where their baby went and a very confused adorable baby who doesn't understand where his boobs went.
I'm so grateful for my healthy son and in the not-so-far-off-future, all of this will have been worth it and a distant memory. And we will jump this hurdle as well, together, like we have been doing for the last year.
On that note, the buddhist books I bought last month have not done much to affect my spirit. By that I mean, I'm pretty pissed off that this has happened to me. I wish I could say I am gracefully accepting it as something that "is", but I don't buy into that ever and I certainly don't buy into it when it comes to the struggles me and my family have had to face in the last 12 months (yes, that is your hint that if you tell me 'everything happens for a reason' I will straight up punch you in your face, that might make you feel better but it really won't make me feel better so please don't offer that wisdom). I think it is unfair. And yes, I totally understand that the world is unfair, but this is my blog so I get to take a moment to feel bad for myself every once in a while. And yes, I have the perspective to know things could be so much worse, but again, this is my time to say "poor me" for just one minute, so shhhhhhh. Because seriously. All I wanted to do was bring a little boy into this world so I could love him and try to raise him to be a good person who would grow up to be nice to people and make the world a better place in his own special way... and for some reason, I have to pay a gigantic price to do this thing that women do all the time without so much as losing an eyelash.
Self-pity rant over. But seriously.
The very first time I fed little Sullivan James.
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