A Whole New World, A Whole New Me

Sorry for not updating for a while. Things have been busy. While we haven't been given a discharge date, we ARE getting close. Autumn is on 20-25cc of oxygen on low flow cannula, she gets bottle fed 6/8 feeds a day, and she passed her hearing test! We've started getting Autumn's nursery ready for when we finally get to come home. I've been a bit reminiscent all day, though. The little girl across the hall from Autumn was discharged today, and a new baby quickly took over her old room. Down at the end of the hall where Autumn is, things are much different from admissions. The babies are usually in cribs and get bottle fed. You can hear them cry.There are no isolettes, no PICC lines, no IV machines. This new baby, though, is different. He's still in that isolette, and hearing his PICC line alarming tonight really took me back to the beginning weeks of this journey.

Being a Preemie Parent is a life most can't imagine, let alone ever think will become their reality. I sure didn't think I would deliver at 26 weeks and become a Micro Preemie mom. It's such a huge shock, a huge change. Things are going perfect one day, and suddenly the train you were on that was headed to your perfect future derails. This sudden change of events can not only leave a family feeling confused and scared, but also completely alone. People will claim they understand. People will claim they're there for you. They'll try to give you words of encouragement. None of this changes that feeling of isolation, though.

It's like this:

Imagine you live on a planet, where everything goes as planned (or so it seems). You're just living your life, expecting your life to go exactly as it should. And at first it does. No bumps, no problems... everything seems right in your world. Now imagine you wake up the next day to find you've been transported to a completely different planet while you slept. It happens that fast. Everything in your life is suddenly entirely different from everything you've ever known, and now you have to learn everything you thought you knew all over again, and fast. This new world doesn't slow down for anything. Things change in an instant. There are strange sounds, sights, smells, and people who speak a whole different language that you are expected to learn in a matter of days. And you're terrified. As you're trying to adjust to this new world, the people from your original world call and contact you (most have good intentions), wanting to help you adjust. The only problem is, they can't. They want to be there for you... but how can they, when they've never been where you stand? Now, on top of trying to adjust, you feel envy. Envy that your old friends and family get to continue living their life out the way it should go. Also, the more you adjust to your new surroundings, the less you seem to be able to connect with your old acquaintances. They now seem just as foreign as this new world once did. Then one day, you're sent back to your old world and expected to act as though nothing ever happened. As though nothing ever changed. But the changes that you went through and the experiences you had while you were gone were so dramatic, that there is no way to pretend they weren't real.

That's kinda how life has felt for me the past few months. As I sat there and stared at that isolette across the hall, I realized it really seems fitting for NICU. After a while, parents begin to feel just as isolated from the rest of the world as their babies do inside that isolette. As our babies undergo growth and change and on this journey, so do we. I appreciate all the help from my non-preemie family and friends, I really do. But sometimes, you have to take things I say/do with a grain of salt. While something may seem overboard or like it's non of my business, please think about what I've been through. What my family has been through. What I've had to watch my little girl endure. Put yourself in my shoes, then ask yourself how you would react. Sometimes, I seem like I'm losing my mind. But that's only because my normal is so different than yours. The world looks so different through my eyes. And, while I hope none of you EVER have to stand where I stand, please, I'm inviting you to see inside my world, in hopes that we'll have a better understanding between us. Ask me questions, but please don't be offended if I don't respond the way you thought I would. Just as Autumn is such a different baby than she was 13 weeks ago, I'm such a different person than I was 13 weeks ago. But I'd like to let everyone get to know me again. I'd like to know all of you better. Just please be patient with me. My heart has gone through so much, my world was shattered... I need time to heal, but I need help and understanding to heal as well. I'm serious. Please, ask me what's on your mind.

I'm Ashleigh Munger. I'm a Micro Preemie Mom. I've seen things no parent should ever have to. I'll admit, I'm hurting inside. I'll also admit, though, that my experiences have made me a stronger (and better) person, in my opinion. I may not be healed, but I'm closer than I was. We've got a long way to go, but we've come so far. I'm tired, but I'll never give up.