Writing a blog can be a fun thing to do to try and inject a little extra meaning in your life. It can be a place to collect thoughts, connect dots, and give yourself the impression you may be a little deep after all in the process.
Sometimes life happens and you don’t need anything to inject meaning into your life, and in fact life has given you more than enough meaning to deal with, and you are sort of running on an auto-pilot in a completely new situation, which feels like it should be a contradiction.
When my wife’s pregnancy was difficult, when looking online or hearing what doctors said, it was all just part of the process. Never did we properly look into the extent of the issues she had. Now that she is receiving proper treatment, but with no end in sight to her hospital stay, we realize that this was perhaps not the right way to go about it.
I am more than thrilled that our son was born last week. It has changed the insides of me in ways I do not quite grasp yet. However, there is no time to think about this just now. From the maternity hospital being unable to care for my wife after birth, to seeing her being transported in a bumpy ambulance ride with a fresh c-section to a university hospital thirty minutes away, to hearing about the non-stop tests needed for all the issues they have found with her, time has been used to try and process what my wife is going through.
She is safe now, and on the road to getting stronger than ever, but in those first few days I was on auto-pilot going to the hospital with my son, and ensuring a connection there, then going to the hospital with my wife, and giving any support I could. I wondered if I would care for my son on my own for a bit. I wondered if my wife would die, or would never be the same again. These unknowns gave me such an amazing stress. The thought of losing my wife hurt in ways so painful.
I frantically cleaned our house. Our son was a little over two weeks early, and we weren’t fully ready. I confirmed when everything we ordered would be delivered, ensuring enough time to assemble everything. I tried to talk to others about the issues enough to feel relief.
During pregnancy, we had our routines. I would do the shopping and cleaning. I knew what to buy my wife every morning for breakfast. I knew what sort of things she wanted for dinner. Now we are either in between routines or at the beginning of a new one. It feels like a purgatory of sorts.
The doctors and nurses at the university hospital have been great. The doctor we talked to yesterday looked to be in his early 20’s (possibly a trainee) and the way he spoke was very calm and with respect. He also showed his determination to get my wife better so we can all go home together soon, which was touching. Once they realized my wife’s stay would not be short, they moved our son to her hospital. Every step of the way, when they saw something taking the humanity out of my wife, without being asked to, they proactively found a solution to allow her to maintain her humanity. For this I am eternally grateful and deeply touched, and I will make sure to act accordingly in my life from now on to all others. I know allowing people to maintain their humanity is something sadly easy to overlook.
Our son is healthy. Like any newborn, he sleeps a lot and he drinks a lot of milk (special baby milk, not sure if it’s just milk in English). He’s cute. I love him to pieces.
I love my wife more than ever. Perhaps obvious, but the feeling is stronger than it has ever been. In her road to get healthy, I realize I need to get healthy myself. This action will be the manifestation of my love for her, to have it as more than an abstract feeling, but as a lifestyle shift against a comfortable lifestyle we have had for years.
Writing this out is therapy. It is seeing things get better, and feeling that I can allow myself to spend some time on processing everything. I am collecting thoughts. I don’t feel I am connecting dots just yet.
There are a million more things to process. Maybe they will be in a blog. Maybe they will be thoughts as I jog, or thoughts in the shower. Maybe they will come out during conversations with friends and family that I love and cherish. I don’t know.
Klingsor's First Winter 