Saying Goodbye to the Green-Eyed Monster

Jealousy. Oh how I HATE jealousy. It has been an emotion I have had to deal with since the day we found out Ruby was never going to have a "normal" life. I remember feeling jealous of my friends with healthy children; jealous of other families in the NICU with children who were "better off" than Ruby; jealous of my sister and her healthy baby, jealous of something I would never have...or more to the point, something Ruby would never have. It's one of the most deplorable emotions to live with. Mainly because I know it to be an irrational sensation. It accomplishes nothing. It only serves to distance me from the relationships I need. And it clouds my mind to the pain others around me feel. It encourages selfishness--forces me to become a person I do not like at all.

One of my best friends was pregnant when I was. We went through it all together, and at that time I felt closer to her than I ever had before. And then the babies came. She had a beautiful healthy daughter and a month later I had Ruby and all Hell broke loose. For almost a year every time I saw her or her daughter I felt physical pain. A tightness in my chest. Anger, sadness, and so much jealousy. Every time after seeing them I would break down in tears. I hated feeling that way. I pushed her away because I simply couldn't stand the hatred I felt. And even now as I recall those emotions guilt unmistakably follows. I didn't want to feel that towards my friend, and especially not towards her sweet innocent baby...but I couldn't help it. Jealousy blinded me to her needs...and I became a pretty crappy friend because of it. All I could see was how easily things came for her daughter. Sitting up, walking, talking, Hell even eating was something Ruby couldn't do. I so desperately wanted those things for my daughter.

With every family I met, every old friend who posted pictures of their happy healthy children on facebook, it seemed that everywhere I turned I was slapped in the face with jealousy. When I spoke with other special needs parents they told me they experienced similar things, but that in time it faded. When the tumult of the early days dimmed into the background and emotions were less raw they ceased to feel that way. They said that once they began to see their children grow and develop, at whatever pace they could, that the feelings of jealousy were replaced with pride. I didn't think I would ever get there. At the time I knew I was proud of Ruby. Proud of her every breath; proud of each smile and laugh. But I couldn't imagine not feeling jealous of the life we had been denied. The life my child should have had.

I can't say exactly when it started changing. A shift in how I looked at my friend's daughter. All of a sudden she wasn't an enemy. She was an amazing and delightful resource. My child's friend. My child's best friend. (I'm crying now as I type.) All I see when I look at my friend's daughter is this amazingly bright and strong child who loves my daughter. Someone who accepts her differences with the ease that only a child can. I really can't even begin to describe how wonderful it is.

Even as my jealousy faded for my friend and her daughter I still struggled with it for others. But slowly that too began to dull. Ruby started doing all of these amazing things. Crawling, walking, and even talking a little...not to mention the wonderful personality she began to develop. And all of a sudden I stopped comparing. Stopped noticing what Ruby wasn't doing and started seeing what she could do. At each milestone I found myself beaming with pride! It didn't matter that she walked at 18 months versus 12. And it won't matter that she'll start talking in full sentences at 3 or 4. Or that she'll start to eat more regularly when she's 4 or 5. It just doesn't matter to me anymore! I know she'll get there and I don't really care when. Everything she accomplishes is just icing on the cake. She's my child and I love every single thing about her. I don't love that she will have to go through more pain as she faces medical intervention throughout her life but I love the person she is...and she is that person in part because of her "special needs."

It is so freeing to feel this way. The weight that has been lifted was so very heavy and I finally feel like I can enjoy everything Ruby has to offer. I feel pride whenever I see her struggle to do something other children already can. Because now where I once saw her suffering just to get by I see her determination and strength. And when I see other children who are clearly healthy or gifted I don't feel that pang of jealousy, I simply see children--and maybe potential playmates ;)

There is some quote that always flies around the internet...something along the lines of, "Being a good parent means loving your child for the person they are meant to be, and not for the person you want them to be." And although I always loved Ruby I think I finally truly FEEL that...that total acceptance and pride in whoever she is. And now that the veil of jealousy has been lifted it seems so easy! After all...Ruby is such a flipping amazing person exactly as she is!

Grateful

Time for another post on here. I haven't written one in a while...again...but I've just had a glass of wine and Ruby is sleeping so here goes!

The other day I was hit by the door of realization that I would assume is quite familiar to parents of children who are "medically fragile." Ruby had just woken from a nap and was characteristically cranky and cuddle-y. As she snuggled against my chest I stroked her head and sang to her as usual. But unlike our average post-nap cuddle I began to cry. My mind drifted to thinking about how she would not be with me, just like this, in nearly any other time period. Were she born 100, 50, or even 20 years ago she would have died. Or in a best case scenario, have been sustained on high levels of oxygen and in a much more delicate state. I couldn't help but imagine all of the amazing doctors, children, researchers, nurses, scientists, parents, animals, and so forth who have created a world in which my daughter can not only survive but thrive. Truly thrive! The countless variables that have played a role in her ability to live are mind-boggling. And because of all of those steps. Because of all of those pieces of the puzzle I am beyond the luckiest person that lived to have my child cranky and sweet nuzzling her face into my chest.

My life may be difficult at times. And Ruby's will undoubtedly be even more so...but all of that chemistry of universe will amount to something. Because she is here and with me. She laughs everyday. She smiles everyday. She reads with me everyday. She colors. She plays. She learns. She cries. She grows into an evermore admirable person everyday. All because of a hundred-thousand moments in time that led to her having a surgery that saved her life. And she gets to live it! I am simply in awe of this. And I will NEVER take it for granted.