These five days post-op have thrust me directly back into newborn baby mode.
Not me as newborn baby, though I might have shed a tear or two in complete horror at Jake’s insane screaming while attempting to jump out of the bed while still completely sedated–not asleep, but not in the there and then, either.
You know the drill.
Newborn baby means you can’t leave the house without making arrangements that would humble the pentagon in their detail and flashing blood red WARNING signs all over the forty page “note” you leave whomever is sitting with the kid while you go out to clear the cobwebs from your brain and then wonder if you’re in fact alive at all.
But this was a bit different in that I didn’t have the nine months (or seven as my pregnancies seem to allow) build up to isolation.Ã‚Â Nor was I in the post-partum fog that allows a mother to function as though perfectly normal to never change one’s clothes or shower until the late afternoon hours let alone talk to anyone with any sort of civility and genuine engagement in what’s being said.
I thought what I felt–the sudden smack in the face of “wow, I can’t go anywhere and someone’s pawing at me 24/7, I’m up every two hours in the night, etc.–might be similar to what parents who adopt might feel.
Not thatÃ‚Â adoptive parents don’tÃ‚Â jump through excrutiating hoops, rings of fire, and what amounts to emotional torture and nearly unbearable paths to bring baby home.Ã‚Â But adoptive mothers’s bodiesÃ‚Â probably don’t provide thatÃ‚Â winding down of life–the mother-to-be who is too tired to stay at the party past nine, naps everyday after work, andÃ‚Â searing back pain that is just asking for post-partum isolation.Ã‚Â
I guess, when you adopt, you’re just suddenly–in a physical sense–blindsided by the change.Ã‚Â And perhaps the protective fog encasing the mother’s brain isn’t available to the person who didn’t give birth–that mother or me in the case of Jake’s surgery is suddenly thinking, how the hell did this happen?Ã‚Â What the hell is happening?Ã‚Â Where is my life?Ã‚Â The one that doesn’t require what amounts to “permission” to leave the house?
If I’ve offended anyone with the adoption analogy, I apologize.Ã‚Â But I just kept thinking I felt like I had a newborn again but in a shocking sort of way…anyway, theÃ‚Â subsequent posts should be coherant, non-offensiveÃ‚Â and happy so hang in there with me.
And very soon, I’ll be back to your blogs.Ã‚Â I miss them.