I didn't see it coming

Prematurity Awareness Month ends today. 2 years ago today I had no idea my son would be born the next day. That we would soon be entering the of prematurity and all that goes with it. And a lot goes with it. Worry, sacrifice, tears, sleep deprivation - all the things that come with a full-term baby, but heightened. Over the past 2 years things have popped up that remind me that Greyson had such a rough start, but lately there hasn't been too many. He's been healthy, happy and now he's finally talking I thought we we over the repercussions of prematurity. I thought "He's totally caught up!" and for the most part he is. I think that is why today's experience surprised me so much.

Today at 1 day shy of 2 years old Greyson started Parents Day Out. He will go twice a week for 4 to 5 hours (depending on the day). This is the first time he's been in a setting with other kids. He's only gone to the church nursery twice. When we get together with other kids it is usually at our house or there house with only 1 or 2 other kids. This was 6 other kids. Greyson didn't know what to do.

Aside from the freaking out and crying when we dropped him off (which we expected) the teacher said that he didn't interact with the other kids. That he played by himself, and was happy to do so, but that he didn't like group actives or playing with others. He'd just move away and do something else.

This lack of socialization is totally a side-effect of his prematurity that I didn't see coming. After keeping him in "lock-down" the first year - quitting my job to do so, and then only playing with a few other kids last year, Greyson doesn't have the social skills that you would expect a 2 year old to have. He is GREAT with adults. He's even fine with one or two kids, but he has no idea how to handle a large group of kids.

I know that PDO will be great for him, that he will learn those social skills (and probably get sick in the process) but we waited until he was 2 years old so I feel comfortable. He's healthier now, so for us the increase in socialization is worth the risk of getting sick. I year ago I don't think I would have been ready.

2 years later he's still a preemie. No matter how strong, healthy and wonderful he is - it's a just a truth. Once a preemie, always a preemie. Or maybe it's just once a preemie mom, always a preemie mom!

I could not have said it better!

Taken out of a newspaper: (then copied from another mom blog - Genevieve Mae)
This is an "oldie, but a goodie"

CAROLYN HAX: TELL ME ALL ABOUT IT
WASHINGTON POST
Thursday, May 24, 2007

Dear Carolyn: Best friend has child. Her: exhausted, busy, no time for self, no time for me, etc.
Me (no kids): What'd you do today?
Her: Park, play group ...

OK. I've talked to parents. I don't get it. What do stay-at-home moms do all day? Please no lists of library, grocery store, dry cleaners ... I do all those things, too. I guess what I'm asking is: What is a typical day and why don't moms have time for a call or e-mail? I work and am away from home nine hours a day (plus a few late work events); I manage to get it all done. I'm feeling like the kid is an excuse to relax and enjoy, but if so, why won't my friend tell me the truth? Is this a contest ("my life is so much harder than yours")? What's the deal? I've got friends with and without kids and all us child-free folks have the same questions.
— Tacoma, Wash.

Dear Tacoma: Relax and enjoy. You're funny. Or, you're lying about having friends with kids. Or you're taking them at their word that they actually have kids, because you haven't personally been in the same room with them. I keep wavering between giving you a straight answer and giving my forehead some keyboard. To claim you want to understand, while in the same breath implying that the only logical conclusions are that your mom-friends are either lying or competing with you, is disingenuous indeed. So, because it's validation you seem to want, the real answer is what you get. When you have young kids, your typical day is: constant attention, from getting them out of bed, fed, cleaned, dressed; to keeping them out of harm's way; to answering their coos, cries, questions; to having two arms and carrying one kid, one set of car keys, and supplies for even the quickest trips, including the latest-to-be-declared-essential piece of molded plastic gear; to keeping them from unshelving books at the library; to enforcing rest times; to staying one step ahead of them lest they get too hungry, tired or bored, any one of which produces checkout-line screaming. It's needing 45 minutes to do what takes others 15. It's constant vigilance, constant touch, constant use of your voice, constant relegation of your needs to the second tier. It's constant scrutiny and second-guessing from family and friends. It's resisting constant temptation to seek short-term relief at everyone's long-term expense. It's doing all this while concurrently teaching virtually everything — language, manners, safety, resourcefulness, discipline, curiosity, creativity. Empathy. Everything. It's also a choice, yes. And a joy. But if you spent all day, every day, with this brand of joy, and then, when you got your first 10 minutes to yourself, wanted to be alone with your thoughts instead of calling a good friend, a good friend wouldn't judge you, complain about you or marvel how much more productively she uses her time. Either make a sincere effort to understand, or keep your snit to yourself.

____

Add to that list 3-5 hours of office work and you have my day. Trust me I wouldn't trade it for the world, but just keeping a very active, "know's no fear" 19-month-old from breaking himself or completely destroying the house is exhausting at best.