So tell me, what exactly is love? Is it the fluttery feelings I used to get when I crushed on someone, or is it the small stillness I have come to expect whenever I think of my Boy and how proud he gets of me. You know that stillness. It's the soft glow of the candle flame burning where my soul lives, deep inside. It's the place that says to me "yes, this is hard. Nobody said it was ever going to be easy to partner a man, especially a man who's worthy of you." These days we can open that up a bit and include all types of partners- gay or straight. But I'll just speak to what I know...

I'm keeping his house while he's away, and trying to include him in all the little minute things of the day. I have to remember that he's the head of the house, even if I'm the Queen Regant for the month. Or year. Or whenever he comes back to take his place again at my board and in my bed. It takes a certain amount of inner strength, and a good deal of that comes directly from the way one perceives themselves. So I'm carefully choosing how I will perceive myself during this deployment. Today I'm one of those crusader queens. I've sent my man off into the world to do good works, to find our fortunes and to secure a place for us in the afterlife. I don't know just when he'll be back, or if he'll ever be back. I have to live as though he were still a part of our lives. Raise our children so that they love their father and remember him.

This is so much easier in the age of internet and digital photography. I may be nuts, but this is how we learn to get through times like this.

teeny-tiny diapers.

Oodles of years ago when I was a girl, the toy companies started coming out with these realistic looking and feeling dollies. They felt like a newborn, had the right weight and skin texture/resistance, etc. Some home ec classes even used them for the 'practice' babies.

My baby, when I birthed her last year, didn't look anything like those realistic babies. She was a squiggly little limp Holly Hobby doll... She looked like a wrinkled spider monkey and it was several months before she wasn't considered 'floppy'. Most newborns are floppy and that's why one needs to be so careful with their necks and heads. Preemies take that floppiness to a whole new level.

When she's sick she's still my little preemie, all floppy and listless. No more wires, thank Diety, but I still creep in and check her breathing as though she were. When she falls into that deep sleep that only the very exhausted and the very young can achieve, and I have to carry her off to bed, she's floppy again. It's just that this time she's got some weight to her. Like a sack of potatoes instead of a piece of overcooked spaghetti.

One of these days I still want another baby doll to hold in my arms and rock. It's likely that will mean another roller coaster through the NICU, and teeny tiny diapers, and lots and lots of sleepless nights and hormonal depression. But it's so worth it. I wouldn't give up my Kitty for anything in the world.

I'm entering a whole new world now, and it's something that I dread almost as much as I look forward to embracing it. How to keep the balance going forward in a calm fashion. What do I want? What is going to be the best decisions for my family?
Goals for the next week: Finish downloading and burning some movies for my Boy. Send the past two months worth of baby pictures out to the families. I took an ambien two hours ago and the soft folding of wool around my brain has begun. I can still function, but I have to make an extra effort to shut out the extra 'noise' around me. As promised, when Kitty needs me, I have no problem focusing solely on her and her needs. When I sit here watching tv and writing my vision blurs and the old familiar fuzziness wraps me up like a blanket. This is what I asked for. I must not let it get out of hand as previously.

While walking through the grocery store earlier, I was mildly irritated by the people who frequent it on a Saturday afternoon. I don't know why I was so amazed. It's not like there was anything unusual about it, other than that I was able to park the car within 500 ft of the store's entrance. Of course there were only 5 checkout lanes open, and they all were crowded, and I felt the urge to hold Kitty out at arms-length. "Watch out everybody! I've got a baby, and she could go off at any moment!"

Her congestion is easing up a bit tonight. Which is good, cause she's still exhausted from being sick all week. I'm praying that the next week goes well, and that I can send my mother home to Pennsylvania before the Kitty and I are supposed to fly east on our Grand Tour.

It's 8 PM. I've taken my pills, my mother and daughter are both sound asleep in bed. They're tired, and I'm tired too. I just can't seem to settle down to sleep just yet, so I'm sitting up and surfing the Net. I'll watch some tv and let my nerves settle a bit.

Good Night, Moon...

While walking through the grocery store earlier, I was mildly irritated by the people who frequent it on a Saturday afternoon. I don't know why I was so amazed. It's not like there was anything unusual about it, other than that I was able to park the car within 500 ft of the store's entrance. Of course there were only 5 checkout lanes open, and they all were crowded, and I felt the urge to hold Kitty out at arms-length. "Watch out everybody! I've got a baby, and she could go off at any moment!"

Her congestion is easing up a bit tonight. Which is good, cause she's still exhausted from being sick all week. I'm praying that the next week goes well, and that I can send my mother home to Pennsylvania before the Kitty and I are supposed to fly east on our Grand Tour.

It's 8 PM. I've taken my pills, my mother and daughter are both sound asleep in bed. They're tired, and I'm tired too. I just can't seem to settle down to sleep just yet, so I'm sitting up and surfing the Net. I'll watch some tv and let my nerves settle a bit.

Good Night, Moon...

Another day and I seem to be as messed up as I used to be. My medication is being adjusted, but not as dramatically as I feared. This is good. I even have a little something to help me sleep. Kitty is all raspy, when she coughs she wheezes for breath. Now we know that this is from the collapsible trachea. I'm not going to fret about that. Right now both my mothers are here, and I got sent to bed for a full night's sleep. Same thing is supposed to happen today.

What am I going to do with a day off? Feeling a bit better, all on my own. I could play online. I could spend it doing the fancy handwork that I miss (Seriously complicated needlework). I could be a world-famous supermodel magician. Mommy is taking a sick day. Whoo-effing-hoo.

Alright. I've dropped the Boy pierside, I came home, and calmed the crying Kitty. Then I went and threw up. A piece of rice came out my nose, and I feel better now.

The bronchoscopy today turned out very well. Her trachea has a soft spot on one side, and that's what's causing the problems. When she asks more of her breathing, it collapses in, and makes it harder for her to breathe. This should end by the time she gets to preschool. Her stomach upsets continue, though, with puking, icky watery/mucusy stools, and other miscellaneous sick stuff that comes out of babies.

I got as flaky as I normally get when he leaves for long periods of time. But it took me less to cope this time. I feel a bit silly that I showed all of this to my mother-in-law, but she's not judging me because of it. She and I agreed that we wished we could behave like the Kitty- she weeps and wails and threw a fit tonight because she was too tired and cranky and sick. We're too old to do that, even if it would make us feel better about waving the Boy off.

This won't be for too long, in the grand scheme of things. We know that the boat has a shelf-life, it can't be extended indefinately, and that he will come home again before we know it. Even still... I'm a navy widow again for a half-year. A merry widow? Or one of those women that walk along the shores looking out to sea waiting for the waves to carry news of her love back to her?

Well, I think the worst of the sickness has passed. I spent Friday/Saturday/Sunday sick, the KittyCat was equally sick Saturday/Sunday, and my mother-in-law arrived via an emergency plane ticket last night. When she got here she sent me and the Boy to bed, and we slept hard for the rest of the night. His last night with me. He held me, and we slept, and early this morning I dropped him off pierside.

At least I've got two more chances to say goodbye before it's for the rest of this half-year.

We're still not completely over this bug, but we're much better.

Rolling with the punches is one of the hardest lessons to learn in the military. When your spouse sends you an email saying, "what do you think of this new opportunity", it's important to roll with it.

I don't take sudden news well. Never have. Since I married my husband I've learned to swallow that initial ACK and look for the bright side. This is often annoying, but vital to my sanity. No one ever said that it would be easy. The exact opposite, actually. Every military spouse I've talked to agrees: it sucks. The life is full of more uncertainty and separations than most jobs. No reliable hours. Frequent separations to the farthest corners of the earth. Although it's not heavily emphasized in the recruitment ads there's a better than average chance of getting killed.

For all that, it's still a rewarding life. There is a roof over our heads and medically speaking we're fully covered. When I've truly needed my husband here, I've had him. Without having to worry that he'd lose his job because of my difficult pregnancy, emergency birth, and serious post partum depression...

In a few short days he will leave. It will not be the end of me, although my heart will break and there will be times that I weep for the loneliness. I will continue to love him and keep his house. Tend to our child. When he returns, he will find us waiting for him.

I might be overextending again.

Had several long meltdowns over the weekend and the early part of this week. Today I'm grounding myself, but just for the morning. Munchkin is doing fine today. Her breathing is the same. We rescheduled the upper GI study, and next week she's going into the PICU -pediatric intensive care unit- for a bronchoscopy under sedation. This will look at her lungs and find out why she's having so much trouble breathing with activity. The specialist suspects that she has a soft spot in her airways- this is actually quite normal for preemies who were on ventilation. It will not lead to major problems; I just want to know why my child struggles for breath when she plays.

Her fevers are coming down and slowing. She's eating again.

I'm not having nightmares anymore.

When did this world go so wrong? At what point did we all hate each other, and when did community disappear? I'm feeling a bit disillusioned today watching the morning news.
Mama goes home today. My mama, that is. I get to stay here in paradise with my KittyCat and my Boy, who is home with me and All Mine for two more days.
I woke up this morning with a bold new idea. I'm going to try to track down die-cut purple fabric hearts, and make some of the preemie double weight receiving blankets with the Preemie Purple Heart on them. It'll be great. With luck it won't cost so much, either. This service project keeps bringing new life and purpose to my days. The time passes more quickly and I'm not feeling so aimless as I make my way through the long days of Stay-At-Home-Mothering. The news from Monday, from the Pulmonologist, has given me nightmares all week. For all that we've been incredibly lucky so far, I feel as though the other shoe has finally dropped and that re-hospitalization is inevitable before her first birthday. I don't know whether or not that's what I'm even dreading right now. It's been a long trip, and mostly smooth despite the ups and downs.

KittyCat has started a course of steroids as of this morning, and she's scheduled for an upper GI immediately, and may be sent for an airway test under sedation in another week or so. She's also developed an alarming heart murmur in the past month. That's the good news....

My Boy and I are going away for a few days. This was previously arranged and I've decided that it will be good for us not to fret- meaning, of course, that I need to stop obsessing over all this until later. Like, say, when the actual results are seen by the specialists in charge of the case.

I feel like the other shoe is about to drop on my head. Suddenly, and when my mother is on her way out of town. It's going to break loose when my Boy deploys, for sure. I'm a preemie mom. I survived the NICU. I survived coming home from the NICU. I can take whatever comes my way with a firm attitude and cope; after all, I'm a navy wife and I can handle anything. It's what my family needs from me right now. When it's all over, in the privacy of the night and in the comfort of my own bed when my family's asleep- that's when I'll cry. Not today.

Serenity. Now.

Last night I kept crawling back under the blankets and pulling them over my head. What don't I want to see, to deal with? KittyCat was well-behaved and went to bed early. My family was happy and content watching shows on the tv that I like, and yet I wanted to lay in bed and stare blankly into my pillow.

Deep down, I'm already detaching from them. Deep down, I'm already preparing for the separations. My mother goes home on Friday. My husband leaves my side in 16 or so days. Not that I'm counting, mind you. Pretty soon it's just going to be me again, against the world and caring for my baby girl. I know that I can handle it, a part of me is looking forward to being the great big supermommy again. The rest of me, that frightened little part that wants to cling to my husband and whisper "don't go", the same part that wants to burrow deep into my mommy's armpit and whimper, that part still needs a bit of consolation. That's what I'm going to do over the next few days. Console that little girl.

We just won't think about what will happen to us in one more pay period's time. Sufficient to the day is the evil thereof, or something like that. Take care, my friends. Hug your loved ones and know how blessed you are if they are coming home to sleep beside you tonight.

Domestic tranquility has struck once again. My Boy is home. Where he belongs. KittyCat's curled up on his lap right now, cuddling. I'm sitting at the computer thinking about all the fun stuff to do over the next week with them home, and I'm thinking seriously about tucking up under the blankies in a bit with some cold medicine and nap. Especially since I was awake way too early this morning.
Dinner tonight is brewing and bubbling away in the crockpot. Paprika Chicken and rice and carrots. I need to go back out and get some sour cream, but that will come later. The important thing is that it's under control and I don't have to think about any of it until much, much later. Lovely.

We have one edge of a front tooth! It's poking out gingerly from the gum right now, and I am so proud of her! It seems like such a little thing, people, until it's your own child who's throwing fevers and having that miserable little whimper, burrowing their hot heads against your chin. It adds a whole new dimension to motherhood that I never dreamed of even a year ago.

To switch topics to something totally different, I've been thinking about gender roles lately. When did men stop being Men, and women stop being Women? Really. I'm not advocating a return to the olden days of prejudice/sexist thinking where one gender is the chattel of another, but I'm coming to think that when we had the Sex Wars and Feminist Revolution a lot of the good stuff got thrown out with the bad. For one example, a lot of men and women that I've known spent a lot of time in their young adulthood trying to figure out where they belonged -as they were learning who they were, what the rules of society currently dictated for that role, and how they were going to incorporate all of that with what they had been raised to believe. Our own parents suffered from this; mothers teaching their girls to reach for the stars and letting their sons play with girlie things. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I'm concerned about the opposite being true- that girls don't get to play with dolls enough and dream of being homemakers. Boys don't get to grow up with the assumptions of one day having a family and supporting them, being the Man of the House. We have learned a mishmash of the way things should be now and the way things were in our grandparents' time. I know that I struggled for a couple of years with the thought that my true dream in life was to be a good wife and mother, a frugal and thrify housekeeper, in the ways of my foremothers... There's no career in that. There's very little glory and a lot of criticism in that, these days. The choice to have me stay home involves a lot of careful planning and budgeting, and we've agreed that this will mean that we're going to pass up a lot of expensive things. We're also not going to live on revolving credit cards. As much as my husband complains from time to time about always being broke, we're not in debt, and we're living in one of the most expensive economies in the country on one income (his) and with a child. There *is* a certain status in that which we can be proud of. I'm a lot less emotionally fragile than I used to be, believe it or not. I know where I am now is where I truly want to be. My husband can feel a real pride in being the sole breadwinner, knowing that he is providing for his family. There may be a lot of things he can't provide- he never went to college, he never learned to drive, and he is in an occupation that makes him leave us for a lot of the year. All those things are nothing compared to knowing that he is providing the roof over our heads, the food on our table, and that he's living up to the role that (for good or ill) he found instilled in his own subconscious mind as a boy.

The past couple of days have been a big blur to me. I know that stuff has happened. There's a new heat/ac unit in my wall. There's a more or less clean kitchen, and formula keeps getting mixed up to Her Ladyship's exacting requirements, and medicine gets poured down her throat. She's even getting better about swallowing the tylenol when I give it to her. So that's good. I think she's finally made a connection between that taste and feeling better.
Cherry koolaid will never be safe in this house again.
This is not just because I, myself, am fond of it. Or that I bought buffalo chicken strips at the store this afternoon just to provide emotional support through the next 24 hours of teething. Her Ladyship sleeps now, and has for the past hour and a half, and I'm cautiously beginning to relax. I wish I could talk to my Boy tonight. I don't even have the faintest clue as to what I'd say, but I just want to have the option of talking to him.

I've been having odd dreams again. Vivid, strange, dreams that involve the 'true-selves' of people that I know, and some people I don't know. It's hard to interpret them just at the moment, cause I'm still dragged out from the night spent coaxing my baby back to sleep and through her discomfort from the teeth trying to come through. I don't know when, but it's got to be soon.

With luck I can get a nap this morning and try to go back to some of those dreams and sort out what is going on. I hope that all is well with them; it's selfish of me that I don't want to get involved deeply in a dream-healing right now. I feel so drained. Maybe that's the point.

It still looks as though KittyCat's going to sprout all her teeth at one shot. The ridges are there, we can see individual teeth through her gums and those gums are stretched as tight as can be over the teeth. She's in awful pain from it, and fussy, and when the motrin takes the pain away she's all smiles and giggles and sweetness'n'light. The cutest thing I've ever seen or ever hope to see.

I'm also getting better at getting her down for bed. She's asleep now; rocked to sleep with L&O Criminal Intent and a smattering of the Antiques Roadshow. But PBS was starting to overstimulate her, so I had to switch back to the cops and crimes... who knew? Who could have possibly predicted that she is equally fascinated and lulled to sleep by criminal dramas? It couldn't have been all the times I fell asleep to these things while pregnant, right?

Another day in Paradise.

My little girl and I ran out to do some errands on our own this afternoon, and had a lot of fun. Diaper Genie refills are on sale at Target this week, so I stocked up. I bought some more receiving blankets to cut down for pump kit bags- and if anyone knows preemie moms, let me know if they think it would be a good thought to offer a few up on my ETSY.com site. The theory behind this is that it's hard enough to want to pump, and schlep the tubing and horns back and forth from the NICU all the time, but if you've got a nice flannel bag to carry it all in then not everybody knows that you're doing it. Plus, when you get done pumping and discover that you forgot something to wipe up the drips with, the bag can be used to help out. It's also machine washable...

The weather today is glorious. I heard a brief short one-liner message from my Boy this morning when I woke up that really made my day. Even though I've still got the weepies at odd times, it's not so bad right now. I know that he loves us. I know that eventually he'll be home with us again and all will be well.

Tonight's dinner is going to be deviled meat-loaf patties and butter-simmered carrots. I've been drooling over the prospects of this for a couple of days now, and can't wait for tonight. Is it dinner time yet?

Thank you also to everybody who has sent me Virtual Hugs in the past days. I feel better for them. It's nice to hear that somebody else can 'hear' me, and that I still have a voice.

How do we cope with deployments and the long absences of our partners? There's as many ways through it as there are people. Some find that they need to keep busy with every waking moment, exhausting themselves so that they don't have to think about the loneliness. Others find the opposite is true. Some people pack up and move back home with their parents, in a sort of 'reverse' childhood. Others stay on in the marital home, piling the empty side of their bed with all sorts of stuff so that in the middle of the night when they wake up there's still a comforting weight on the covers...

It's okay to grieve the separation. It's okay to cry, and to sob and beat your hands against the pillows. That's part of what makes us human. The anniversaries that we spend alone. The birthdays we spend apart, and holidays, and all the other times when everybody else we know is celebrating with their family- those days we spend with a Partner-Shaped hole in our lives. We can't replace them, and we can't pretend that they don't exist. We've just got to do it without the luxury of having that person in the room.

I don't know that there's a universal solution to this. Every couple has to manage it on their own. I know that my Boy and I send emails back and forth, as often as we can manage, and we always take a moment to acknowledge these days. Even if he's so busy that all he can do is a two-sentence message. Even if all I can do is send a paragraph into cyberspace that has become one-way due to internet restrictions and Operational Security measures. I haven't heard from my Boy in several days now. It is a physical pain, a tightness in my chest to endure. I just have to suck it up and get through it.

Serenity Now. Breathe. That's all I can do.