Memories and Social Media

Social media has transformed how we communicate with one another, but it has also altered how we remember.  This is problematic for those whose bad choices or youthful indiscretions are forever memorialized online for anyone to find.  However, it also has the potential to hold great value.  I can compare my life of five years ago with my life of today.  It can help keep me accountable to myself for goals I set and fail to obtain.  It can also bring comfort and joy when I look back and see when my children were small and how they progressed.

One of the other interesting things it can show us is patterns.  Earlier this year, I had noticed that May 23 has been the day that my iris first bloomed three of the last six years.  Maybe flowers do have internal clocks!  But, as interesting as I found that, today's FB trip down memory lane was far more thought provoking.

First, FB showed me something which I already knew--last year today, Patrick had his second open-heart surgery.  He did so well, and the surgeon was pleased, and our world was filled with hope.  Two years ago today, we were in the OB-GYN's office and found out we were having a boy.  Just two years--it feels like so much longer than that already.  What floored me, though, was looking at the flippant comment I had made that day:

At doc's office for the anatomy ultrasound.  Any guesses on boy/girl?  We're just hoping for 2 pulmonary arteries.  ;)

It was a joke.  And, even now, I still get the light-hearted way I meant it. But my brain, the irrational, judgy part that thinks I control the universe, stuck in its two cents.  "Did you do this?" it quietly accused me.  Did I?  Did my imprecision and failure to say two "normal" pulmonary arteries do this?  My rational brain assures me it did not.  Of course not.  My irrational brain, however, points out that I said we just wanted two pulmonary arteries--and we got that--they just weren't connected properly.  "Well," my rational brain shoots back, "If we're talking about getting what we asked for, we asked for no heart problems, and we didn't get that."  The sneaky, guilty part says slyly, "God doesn't grant every wish.  You should be more careful what you wish for."

It's a horrible "game."  One that, I imagine, we all experience at one time or another.  In talking with others who have suffered miscarriage or had children with CHD, we have all spent at least some time fixated on what we could have done differently, berating ourselves for how this must somehow be our fault.  And, as well as the doctors do to convince us otherwise, new research undercuts their assurances.  Indeed, a new study into the causes of CHD suggests that for older moms (read, "like me"), the chances of your child developing a CHD are decreased by exercising.  Crap.  So now this is my fault.  And since there seems to be a genetic component to it, I--that is to say my genetics--bear some responsibility for the outcome.

Without belaboring the point (too late), I love the ability to go back and see memories on social media.  I just have to beware of the traps that lay therein: 20/20 hindsight; and the belief that I was ever in control in the first place.  Go, and do likewise--and have fun out there :)

The Million Dollar Question

Part of human nature is to second-guess ourselves.  We spend a great deal of time wondering "what-if."  We look back with the knowledge of today on decisions made when we were less informed and berate ourselves for the choices we made or opportunitites missed.  I thought about this a lot this week while I was at the hospital with Jellybean.

This time last week, I was barrelling down the freeway, headed for Detroit to take Jellybean to the ER.  He had been lethargic all day and started to have difficulty breathing.  During the wee hours of the morning, they admitted him and, ultimately, determined he had bronchiolitis.  He was placed on oxygen while they assessed him.  His cough got worse, and he began vomiting worse than usual.  With the vomiting came dehydration, so they hooked him up to an IV to make sure he had enough fluid to keep his shunt working.  

Over the course of the next four days, Phil and I both caught a horrendous stomach virus.  FYI:  Juggling one healthy child is hard enough when you are sick--two, one of whom is in the hospital, presents more challenges.  Trying to pump and get milk to Jellybean when I was queasy, dehydrated, and not allowed to visit in case I was contagious--that was a whole new level of difficulty I didn't need to know about.  Fun times!  Ultimately, he got released once he was off oxygen and holding feeds down.  Of course, since his first feed home, he's been vomiting again.  We can't seem get enough food in him to keep up his calorie count, but at least we get enough in to keep him hydrated.  I have struggled this weekend with whether to take him back, but I worry he is more likely to catch something else at the hospital, so I am erring on the side of keeping him at home.

Of course, this week is Holy Week.  Having entered what is arguably the busiest week in the church calendar, finding time for all the doctor visits we already had scheduled, plus those we missed last week that need to be rescheduled, and new ones to check up on how he's doing, is not easy.  I totally understand how parents end up quitting work.  Taking care of special needs children is a full-time job.  And that's been frustrating for me.  I worked hard to become a lawyer, and I would like to use the degree I'm still paying for.  But more than that, I LOVE my job and my coworkers.  Even if, financially, I could give it up, I don't want to.  And so I struggle to do it all.  My house isn't as clean as I would like.  We eat way too much junk food, which is catching up to me (but that's a story for another time).  My life is one big ball of chaos.

So, as I sat in the hospital, holding a restless infant who was hooked up to dozens of wires in one hand, I surfed the internet with the other.  I don't remember where I saw it, or who wrote it, but I read a blog post written by a parent who was asked by a friend if having children was worth it.  It reminded me of back when we were first discussing whether we wanted children--long before we knew about the infertility, the CHDs, or anything else.  Back when we weren't sure if we even wanted run-of-the-mill "regular" kids.  I closed my eyes and asked myself the million-dollar question:  If I could do it all again, knowing what I know now, would I?

The joy of watching my children grow; watching them learn; feeling that first hug; hearing that first "I love you, mommy."  Experiencing all of those beautiful moments, knowing the joy and strength they give me, my heart says "of course I would."  But, at the same time, if I am being honest, I can tell you that, if I had been told at the outset that I would have two children who needed open-heart surgery, I would have opted for a child-free life.  I would not have known that I had it in me to survive this stuff.  I would never have believed it of myself.  But, making the decision with the knowledge I have now would require me to balance those disparate things--the joy and amazement with the extreme difficulties--and I have no idea, even with hindsight, how I would have weighed those experiences against each other and what decision I would have reached.

What I do know is that I love my children with all my heart, and I will be the best mother I can to them, for however long I get to have them.  And, I am grateful that we don't get to know everything before making big decisions because I might have decided not to have kids, and I would have missed out on some amazing moments.  What I learned from the million-dollar question was not whether children were the right decision.  I learned that a life worth living is a life with risk.  Without risk, there is no challenge to overcome, and, without challenge, there is no growth.  I don't like it.  As a risk-averse person, I will probably always struggle with it.  It doesn't make it any less true.  I will try to remember it, the next time I "wish I had known..."