Ten years ago today, after enduring a miserable pregnancy and a rushed, poorly-considered wedding, I was fortunate enough to be introduced to an amazing person.
You see, my kidlet was born a tad early. About three weeks, to be precise. But in reality, his life had been at risk from what seemed like day one. I began having contractions when I was about four months pregnant. I spent most of my pregnancy not only on bedrest, but in the hospital. This, during one of the rainiest, cloudiest winters in Seattle history AND only a few short months after I'd relocated here from Southern California. I'd left everything I'd known to move here, only to immediately get pregnant, get married, and land in the hospital off and on for nearly three months.
They never figured out why I went into labor so early, but a team of seven OB/GYNs managed to keep the contractions at bay long enough for Monkey Butt to remain in utero for a as long as possible. In addition, I was treated at the beginning by a team of gurus at the University of Washington Medical Center, who also really went to bat to save kidlet's young life.
One of the things that I'm most grateful for during that period is the fabulous medical insurance I had. No one was second guessed, my doctors were allowed to test, treat, and medicate me without interference, and I didn't pay one dime of over $65,000 in expense. Eighteen ultrasounds, an emergency amniocentesis (which, by the way, was negative for all bad things and confirmed my kid's gender), two ambulance rides....you name it, it got paid for. I never, EVER had to worry about the cost of my care during that time.
Monkey Butt made his appearance ten years ago today. As with everything else surrounding his arrival, it was complicated. He got stuck, face up, and his fetal heart rate plunged. I was rushed in for an emergency C-Section, and kidlet was yanked free after having been head down and fully engaged for delivery for months. His legs were blue and it took several frantic minutes to get him back to the healthy pink he should have been. After he was born, he had jaundice for nearly two weeks. And then, of course, there were all the usual childhood illnesses, two of which (sepsis and a bacterial infection in his lymph nodes) resulted in his hospitalization.
Now, as a result of a bitter, hostile, and highly confrontational divorce, kidlet lives with his father. I will not comment on Monkey Butt's living circumstances here except to say that I continue to disagree with the court's idea that whoever works to support the household is automatically excluded from the child's life post-divorce. I HAD to work...someone had to. I miss my kiddo and only see him four or five times a year, since he no longer lives in Washington State.
But you should meet this kid. He's amazing. He's hilarious...he made up this story for Thanksgiving about a turkey who was about to be butchered for Thanksgiving dinner, only to successfully to escape at the last minute. Harassed by a neighborhood dog, the turkey manages to leap over a fence, only to run out in the street and be hit by a car. We laughed so hard that Monkey Butt got the hiccups! It was AWESOME!
He loves all things Star Wars. He thinks George Bush is a "stupid dumb ass". He is smart and wise beyond his years, and yet he hides a lot behind a sunny smile and unending affection. Sometimes I look at him when he doesn't see me watching him and wonder how much hurt and anger lives within him. I know it's a lot, and I know he hides it well. But he hasn't gotten to the point where he can articulate it yet, I think, so I continue to try to ensure that he trusts me enough to tell me things that are important (like when he gets in trouble at school, which he does indeed confess) in the hope that, someday, he'll open up.
But today, I am thinking about how painful, how lonely, and how educational the last ten years have been for both of us. I'm overjoyed when he arrives, and miserable when he leaves. But he's taught me that sometimes there are certain kinds of pain we endure because the reward is totally worth it. I guess it's conceivable that I could have slowly lost touch with Monkey Butt given the distance and relinquished him to his other family, but that has its own kind of pain and guilt. Ultimately, there was no choice but to love him and keep him in my life, even if it hurts like hell when he's not here.
Happy barfday, Monkey Butt. I'll see you soon.
ANK