to the way i want things to be; clapping hands, sitting in the high chair throwing food at the dog, picking things up with tiny fingers, chubby little boy in handknit vests, and yes my littlest one still snuggling in bed with me nursing himself back to sleep.
this beautiful vision of babyhood. turning toward childhood obliterated by a week long hospital stay and the intervention: hypoallergenic formula, no food, feeding tube,mittens. so many things i did not want seemingly forced on us by well intentioned doctors.
it has been hard caught between fear and attachment.
i have feared for my baby. i want him better, but it is the attachment ( and my attachment to guilt) that causes me so much pain.
it is so hard to let go of this perfect vision, and the rembrance of his first 9 months, so peaceful and right.
it is hard to accept the reality, he may need this for a little time.
and yet he still smiles, he still claps, he is still mischevious., we still snuggle, and if i look closely it is still a magical beautiful time
in most of the moments ( not when i trying to place a nasal tube at 1:00 am, mind you, that is not beautiful at all, that i hate with every bit of my being).
we will get better.
we will thrive.
we will push the doctors to move beyond the forced feeds as soon as possible.
this is only transient and will pass, and we will be left with only memories which are so different then the reality.
but the attachment thing is still hard to get around even if i can see the way it is working clear as day.
