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Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Blame Game

Stupid Facebook.

I have a love-hate relationship with that blasted social network.  Love, because it keeps me connected to people I would otherwise rarely (if ever) keep up with.  Hate, because sometimes I inadvertently find people I’d rather have forgotten about.

Oooh, that sounds terrible, doesn’t it?

Primarily, I use Facebook as a youth-stalking tool.  I like to keep tabs on my church kids, and these teeny-boppers lurve to barf every detail of their lives onto their profile pages.  Thanks to Facebook, I can keep much better track of who’s dating, who’s breaking up, and who’s on the verge of jumping off a bridge. 

Every once and a while, I look at the side bar and take note of the people that Facebook is recommending I become friends with. 

A few weeks ago, I noticed that an acquaintance from Texas had Facebook-friended my OBGYN.  Of course, I was told by the website that I should also become friends with the doctor, as if doing so would fulfill a lifelong dream.

My heart started beating faster when I saw the doctor’s name.  I have tried with all my might to push any memories of her, of Ellie’s delivery, of the events leading to my sterility, to the dark recesses of my mind.  Back there, in the abyss, the memories are safe.  They don’t lead to endless “what if?” questions.  They don’t cause me to ask, “why?”.  They just sit there, stagnant, minding their own business.

But, seeing her name brought it all back.

I should have closed my laptop and left it at that.  I should have just gone straight to the pantry, picked out the greasiest, highest-caloric-content food I could find, and stuffed it in my heart, er, I mean mouth.  But, no….

I clicked on her name and was directed to her profile page.

Which was not blocked.

I saw her profile picture.  She looked more beautiful than I remembered.  And she was holding a baby.  And smiling.  Not an OBGYN smile, but a Mama-smile.

I read her wall.  She had a baby 3 months ago.  Macy.  I love the name Macy.  Who wouldn’t want to share a name with a high-end department store?  Macy was perfect.  She was born at term.  She was hitting her milestones.  And there was no word of any uncontrollable-post-partum-bleeding-which-required-sterility-inducing-surgery.  Perfect pregnancy.  Perfect delivery.  Perfect baby.  Perfect post-partum-ness.  Perfect life.

And it made me mad.

I have never blamed my doctor for Ellie’s brain injury.  I don’t think it was her fault.  I don’t believe there was any negligence.  I don’t think I could win a lawsuit.  I want to believe she did everything she could for both Ellie and me.

But, that doesn’t mean I don’t have questions for her. 

Why didn’t you tell me that at nearly 7 weeks early, Ellie could actually be born not-breathing?  Why didn’t you prepare us?

Why didn’t you try to stop labor?

Why didn’t you give Ellie a dose of Serfactin to give her lungs a boost?

And, of course, the most passionate question; one that I ask of God:  Why does SHE get a healthy baby, and I don’t? 

The doctor could afford amazing care and therapy for a disabled child.  She’d know which specialists to see.  She could hire a physiotherapist-nanny.  It would make her a better doctor. 

Irrational thoughts?  Absolutely.  I know that.  But, I can’t help it.  This is what floods through my brain when those hidden memories and feelings are allowed to resurface.

I don’t want to blame.  I don’t want to be bitter.  I don’t want to be jealous.  I know too many mothers of special needs kids who spend countless hours replaying the delivery, asking the “what if’s?”, being consumed by anger.  I don’t want to be like that. 

And, for the most part, I’m not.  For the most part, I am convinced that God has a greater plan for Ellie and that her cerebral palsy just HAPPENED.  It’s nobody’s fault.  Bad things happen to people.  We need to rise above our weaknesses and allow God to use us.

But, every once and a while, I feel jipped.  And I want someone to blame.

It’s all your fault, Facebook.


ellen :) said...

I try my darndest every day of my life to NOT be one of those SN moms who spend time replaying, but sometimes it is unavoidable. Like you, I usually shove every moment of Sam's labor (which was in fact VERY MUCH SO negligent) down into the recesses of my heart because it is the MOST painful thing ever to relive it and to say "what if".... but unfortunately I do now and again...I think we are human and nothing will ever take away the deep hidden wishing that we had not had to vacation in Holland... I think having most days with hope and understanding that God has a plan for your most sweet girl is enough. Rock on!

Dawn said...

Cheers Ellen! You said that so beautifully.

Excellent post Chrystie! You said it best in the end.

Sheila said...

Oooh, Girl....I feel ya here! I've buried that ugly birth day way down deep but every now and then it claws it's way to the surface and I feel so many of the things you expressed here...especially jipped! Well said. Big hugs!

Kristi said...

I am so sorry, I know how you're feeling. That's how I feel whenever I think, feel, hear or catch a whisper of my old doc's name. Even my new doc shares the same first name and it gives me a little bit of the wiggles. You are brave and strong and more mature about her than I am. I just don't have it in me yet. You are an amazing woman (((hugs))) to you.

Amy said...

Oh me too! My pediatrician recently told me that my OBGYN was back in town, and I came home and vomited. That was two weeks ago, and I am still anxious about it. She too had a wonderfully healthy child and her life goes on "normally" "typically" while we struggle non-stop here. I try so hard to push those thoughts and feeling away, but it is so hard. I think Ellen said it very well! While I hate that we have all been through this "thing", I am so glad that at least you guys understand.

Hugs to you! You are terrific!