Finding Normal

When you first find out you're pregnant, you have all kinds of wonderful hopes and dreams for your baby. Of course, you are certain that your baby will be gifted -- your baby will be special. You dream that he'll be the next Einstein or Mozart or Bill Gates (well, maybe not Bill ...). You want to give him the very best start in life, so that he can fulfill his potential. You read all the books and listen to the doctors and try very hard to do everything "right." You take your vitamins religiously and exercise (moderately) to keep your body healthy, even on those days when you feel green and pukey. You give up your morning coffee and your celebratory Friday night beer. You forego lunch meat and feta cheese and eggs sunny side up to avoid any danger of listeria. You give up peanuts and peanut butter in the attempt to minimize your unborn baby's chance of developing scary peanut allergies. You drink vast quantities of water and try several different types of belly cream to ward off stretch marks. You plan on having a natural birth and being able to hold and nurse your baby shortly after he is born. Of course, you'll room in with the baby in the hospital, so that he'll never be more than an arm's reach from mama (and probably not even that far!).

But then your baby decides to come 13 weeks too soon and while you're lying in the hospital willing your labor to stop, those dreams are shattered and replaced by different dreams. In those first few scary days, you simply pray that your baby will live or, if his little body isn't up to the fight, that he will at least not suffer and that you get a chance to hold him and tell him how much you love him and say goodbye. Then, as your little one stabilizes and begins his long, slow NICU journey, you find that you have new hopes and dreams for him. Above almost anything else, you dream that one day he'll be "normal." You dream that his mind and his body will be strong and healthy. You dream that he will be able to see and to hear and to talk. You dream that he will learn to crawl and then walk and then run. After he comes home, you read and re-read the developmental information in your baby books and worry while you wait for him to reach his milestones. You celebrate every accomplishment, no matter how small, since it's another step on the road to Normal.

Max had what we had hoped was the last of his developmental appointments today. I was ready for him to get that coveted "normal" stamp of approval and an early discharge from the follow-up program. He was weighed and measured as per usual -- 28 lbs and 32 1/4" tall (I think he's actually taller than that, for some reason he always measures short at his developmental appointments). He's in the 95th percentile on the preemie growth charts, so he can move on over to the regular charts. They did all the regular physical exams and ran him through some developmental tests (stacking blocks, sorting objects, pointing out pictures in books, etc.). Max did really well, except that he was starting to get tired and crabby and decided it was more fun to throw shapes on the floor ("uh oh!") than to sort them. He also wouldn't point out very many body parts, even though he knows them. To his great delight, the doctors let him out in the hall so that they could see him run. Unfortunately, it seems like he still has some mild tone issues. Based on the way he walks and runs, the doctor says that he still has some high tone in his hips and also in his ankles (meaning his muscles/tendons in those areas are a little too tight). Since he seems to be compensating for it just fine (i.e., he doesn't trip and fall down a lot), there isn't anything we need to do at this point. I always wonder how many full-term babies would get flagged for having minor issues if they were followed as closely as Max has been.

So, we'll go back in six months for our last follow-up appointment. Since I was hoping for "normal," I was a little bummed to hear that Max's tone issues have resurfaced. Part of me has been waiting for the magic day when my child suddenly won't be a preemie any more and I was hoping that yesterday was that day. But, the more I think about it, it's kind of silly for me to be disappointed. Max is Max is Max -- the outcome of yesterday's appointment doesn't change who or what he is. And I love exactly who and what he is. He will always be a preemie -- for better or worse, it will always be a part of him. I guess sometimes you have to redefine normal -- this is normal for Max and he's handling it just fine. Besides, normal is over rated anyway, because I know that my boy is special. And I'm dreaming him up some wonderful dreams ...