It seems backwards, but the healthier and stronger Zoey becomes, the bigger the strain becomes on the domestic front.
As Zoey continues her transition to breastfeeding, my wife has to spend more and more time at the hospital so she's there when Zoey is most amenable to the breastfeeding challenge. So, I'm at home most of the day with our 18-month-old. This obviously leads to guilt for my wife and myself: she feels bad for not seeing much of our boy, and I feel bad for not seeing much of our girl. Unfortunately, there's really no way around this current reality, so we just have to push through.
But, also, there just isn't enough time in the day to get things done that need to be done.
We need to get out grocery shopping, or we'll find ourselves in the position of actually envying Old Mother Hubbard's situation. Alternatively, I suppose we can try to figure out some way to make soup using kitty litter.
We also have to prepare Zoey's nursery, lest we finally get her home and have to house her in the kitchen, which will be the only room in our home with adequate empty storage space for her diapers, wipes and clothes. People would come to see Zoey and marvel at all the Huggies in the cupboard where we used to store cereal.
On the plus side, my wife managed to sell her VW Jetta and, yesterday, she bought a Chrysler Town and Country mini-van as a replacement vehicle, and it looks like it will be an excellent way to transport our family.
On the negative side, I just now received a call from my wife informing me her dad just smashed my car into some wooden landscaping ties in our yard. My wife wouldn't elaborate on the damage; she just told me not to overreact when I see it.
So. . . yeah.
The toughest thing about the last month (hopefully) of the NICU experience, is the strain on the concept of marriage.
"For better and for worse" and all that but, during the wedding, you're likely banking on the "for better," with no idea how "for worse" can be, and then "the worse" happens, way earlier than you expected and you're like "Seriously? WTF?"
The last three months have so far been awful, then terrible, then REALLY awful, then gradually better, then slightly better, then bad, then even more bad, then morbid, then better, then well. . . you get the idea. Hell, that was only the first two weeks.
And, as the "for worse" continually plays out in jarring and subtle ways, it exhausts you, and angers you and, if you're serious about what you agreed to on that day you were thinking "for better," it challenges you to meet "the worse" even though it punctures your heart repeatedly.
At this point in the NICU experience, I'm basically a single father with our son at home, and my wife is basically a single mother with our daughter in the hospital--it would be different if I could somehow breastfeed, but that's not really possible. *checking* Nope, not possible.
In between, my wife and I are practically strangers with tenuous tendrils keeping us together. But, we have reminders, here and there, in unexpected situations, reminding us what brought us together.
Love is tenacious that way.
Meanwhile, we're running on fumes, both mental and physical. Once Zoey is finally home, it will be a new set of challenges, but for right now those future challenges don't seem as daunting, somehow.
In other news, I pulled together a bunch of my newspaper columns from 2004 - 2006 (and some other writings that never would have made it into a newspaper) and uploaded them to Amazon.com. It's available here for less than a buck, for you Kindle people who may be interested.
I'm my own worst critic, particularly when it comes to stuff I wrote years ago, but most of the entries still make me smile, mainly because I lived through the stories (barely).
I don't imagine I'll become financially independent off this or anything, but it seemed like a waste to have so many columns and other writings gathering digital moss when they could at least possibly find new life on Amazon.
Time will tell, I guess.
Today, as I worked fleetingly on a freelance article, I noticed the tell-tale flickering lights in my peripheral vision that foretold of an impending migraine.
I went upstairs to scrounge around for Tylenol but, finding none, I opted for two Motrin. Motrin is not my first choice, because for some reason I always equate it with menstrual cramp relief, which obviously doesn't sound like something you'd use to do battle against a migraine.
I then retired to the basement, where it's darker and conducive to a migraine nap. When I awoke three hours later, the flickering vision had dissipated, leaving in its wake a pounding headache. Again, we didn't have any Tylenol, and I didn't want to go the Motrin route again, so I opted for the next best thing: whining.
"Can't you take one of those Oxycodones from when my C-section ruptured?" asked my wife.
This struck me as a peculiar solution. On the one hand, I know I'm not supposed to take any medication that's not prescribed for me, and particularly not any medication that's left over from a different medical condition entirely. Still, on the other hand, if Oxycodone could numb the pain of a C-section incision the length of my forearm, it had to do SOMETHING for a migraine. Besides, it was a teeny tiny pill that didn't seem capable of anything too serious. So, I took one, and then I forgot I even took it as the toddler woke up from his nap and immediately started wailing.
Eventually, it was decided I should go out and get take out food from somewhere, and we opted for Indian food, so I hopped in the car and headed for the "India Garden" restaurant. I ordered, and was told it would be a 15 to 20 minute wait, so I went to peruse the offerings at a sporting goods store across from the restaurant.
As I looked at an interesting selection of old firearms, I found I was strangely unable to concentrate, and I noted with a dumb smile that I felt my cheeks tingling, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out why.
Then I remembered taking the Oxycodone and realized "Holy crap, I'm buzzing on prescription meds, for crying out loud."
As jarring as the realization was, I have to admit I didn't have much of a headache any longer. So, medical professionals, take note: Oxycodone can knock out a migraine, or at least make you forget you had one in the first place.
