Quinn is 36 days old today. Max lived to be 37 days old. Writing that is like kicking myself in the head (I saw a guy do this on Big Brother, so I know it's possible). It seems impossible that 37 days can make up a lifetime, but it did for Max. Because of Max and his impact on my life, I am enjoying the gift of every day with Quinn. And because of Max, I realize that every day really is a gift. To be honest, my anxiety has not been as bad as I thought it would be. I definitely do things that most moms probably don't--check to make sure she's breathing 8,000 times a day, put on her Snuza monitor every night before bed (this monitors her movements from breathing and sounds an alarm if necessary)--but I also do what most new moms do--enjoy her. As the minutes tick by and we get closer to the 37 day mark, I do feel my anxiety increasing, however. I don't know what it will feel like to wake up tomorrow and be Quinn's mom on her 37th day of life, and I am even more clueless as to how it will feel to have Quinn live to 38 days, and in doing so, outlive her big brother. I sure hope that I get to find out, though.
At times, I feel like I am tempting fate. No matter how hard I try, I can't shake that feeling. When I found out that I was expecting a girl, it was obligatory for people to joke about how moody she would be as a teenager, how much money we would spend on clothes, and the creative ways we would protect her from predatory, hormone-addled boys. I went along with these jokes, and I made them often myself. In the back of my mind, though, I was always qualifying these statements with, "If she lives that long..." I would immediately feel guilty for questioning my unborn daughter's ability to survive, but I also knew that there was a lot of truth behind it. Now that Quinn is here, I still find myself prefacing thoughts of the future with "If she lives that long..." and imagining her future with some hesitation. When I buy or receive clothes that she isn't yet big enough to wear, I wonder if she'll live long enough to fit into them. And I remember how horrible it was to pack up boxes of clothes that Max never grew to fit into. Every time I see the box of size 1 diapers sitting in Quinn's closet, I wonder if she'll live long enough for me to open the box and put one on her. And I can't help but remember giving boxes of diapers away after Max died. When I think of the milestones that I assume Quinn will reach--rolling over, crawling, walking, speaking--I can't help but think that I assumed that Max would reach them too, and look where it got me. I worry that I took things for granted with Max, and I worry that I will do that with Quinn too. I scold myself when I think or say things like, "When Quinn is a teenager..." or "When Quinn starts walking..." or even "Tomorrow..." because I know that those things aren't guaranteed. How stupid can I be? I think to myself sometimes. The alternative, though, is to say things like "IF Quinn lives to be a teenager..." or "IF tomorrow comes..." and how depressing would that be to hear?!?! I know that this way of thinking isn't likely to change, so I'll get used to it. Maybe the way I feel about it will change. Maybe I won't even notice it at some point. Max's death left me with a lot of questions and a feeling of uncertainty about the future, but it also left me with the unshakable belief that every day that we live to see is really a gift. I try to keep that in mind so that if tomorrow doesn't come--for me or for someone I love--I'm happy with today.
On a very important side note, I learned tonight that a friend's newborn son is in the NICU. This friend is not someone I speak with every day, but he was, at one point, a very important person in my life. He taught me many things and undoubtedly contributed to the person I am today, so I will always consider him a friend. He is funny, generous, fiercely loyal, and has a very strong faith. I ask that you take a break from reading now and say a prayer for him, his son, and their family. And when you're done with that, take a break from stressing about the future and think of all of the blessings that you have today.
