At Celia's One Year Appointment we ran into the surgeon that saw her on the night that she was born. I was so glad that he was able to see her walking (cough cough, running around like a crazy girl).
When Celia was one week out of the NICU, we had to come back for an appointment with this surgeon. Not for any particular reason, just for protocol since we were discharged from the hospital. (We will never have to schedule an appointment with him again, not annually....never). During that visit, (when celia was 6 weeks old) he had me look at Celia's abdomen: a triangular shape of muscles right above her belly-button that looked like she had been working out her "abs". It was a hernia. Nothing harmful at all. He said she would just have to get it fixed when she was a year or two old. It isn't painful, he said, and won't really affect anything at this point.
Anyway, when we ran into him at Celia's One Year Appointment I asked him about the hernia. I told him how I want to get her into a gymnastics class in a few months, but wouldn't do it without his permission. He took a seat and put Celia on his lap. After a few seconds of feeling her stomach, he smiled and said, "I wouldn't worry about it". (Meaning that he hernia was gone). I asked, again, if Celia could begin gymnastics. "Absolutely".
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It just amazes me that every worry that I have ever had with this crazy little girl is put behind me. It is so easy to worry. It is so beautiful to know that I don't have to and that I shouldn't. Unfortunately, worry has been a struggle for me that I constantly must overcome.
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As mothers, we question the decisions we make for our children all the time. We wish we would of done this. We wish we wouldn't have done that. Before Celia was even born, I was in my own little world of frustration, unrealistic expectations, and a strange mix of thankfulness and ungratefulness all at the same time.
*This story has been told plenty of times before, but I cannot get over where Celia has been and where she is now...and how much I worried about things that were taken care of already*
I had the perfect plan when Celia was born, I would give birth naturally (well, I didn't have a c-section regardless of her birth-defect and much pressure from the OB and others. Thank goodness for an awesome, well-educated perinatologist who was my advocate and my only hope for a somewhat normal experience. The hospital system somehow snuck a boatload of pitocin in my IV though *angry face*), I would breastfeed for 12 months or longer, I would choose the right vaccination schedule (pshhh, impossible to do), the list goes on and on...and on.
When Celia was born, they told me that she would not live. That she could not live. How would I physically be able to produce enough food for this newborn baby who will never see the day to finish these bottles that I am making? I would have to "pump and freeze" her food, but how can I do that when I am not eating or drinking or even sitting down? I am researching and calling people, and talking to doctors and nurses, and trying to comfort my baby that I have not and cannot even hold yet.
When the moment finally came that no doctor ever thought would (the moment when we could introduce milk to Celia), there were restrictions and extra calories added and everything but a natural feeding experience happening. It was a beautiful experience, nonetheless, but just not possible for the long term when I look back.
We were sent home after a short five weeks in the NICU with a perfectly normal, healthy baby. Well, somehow I was able to make enough for Celia to eat for about a month and a half during that stay. Any effort past that time was an unsuccessful one. She had to be on formula.
It broke my heart for a long, long time. I would be so frustrated every single day - every time I made her a bottle to eat. After having a normal, healthy baby for that long...I forgot to give thanks to God that she was even eating anything.
Introducing solid foods after 6 months was my gateway to happiness. It still is. I have 'control' now. I am physically able to give her the most nutrient-dense food that I can make. So now you all see why I am so crazy about the food I feed Celia: the loads of coconut oil, the organic butter, the gluten-free, the dairy-free, the bone broth, etc. Now you will know why my kitchen is always "clean", but never, EVER picked up: I am constantly cooking fresh food for this little girl. Now you will know why we rarely leave the house for too long: I can't just bring crackers or a pbj sandwich along for the ride. I will get a system down, hopefully, to have a little more freedom. But at her age now, this system works, and keeps me sane.
It is crazy to me that no matter how much I worried about feeding newborn Celia formula, my fears and frustrations could not change a thing. Worrying could not make breastmilk. Worrying could not give me the perfect mommy skills. It actually disabled my relationships for a short while. I mean, who wants to be around a bitter person?
Matthew 6:25-30: "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Isn’t there more to life than food and more to the body than clothing? 26 Look at the birds in the sky: They do not sow, or reap, or gather into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Aren’t you more valuable than they are? 27 And which of you by worrying can add even one hour to his life? 28 Why do you worry about clothing? Think about how the flowers of the field grow; they do not work or spin. 29 Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his glory was clothed like one of these! 30 And if this is how God clothes the wild grass, which is here today and tomorrow is tossed into the fire to heat the oven, won’t he clothe you even more, you people of little faith?"
No matter what Celia ate or how much I worried, her Father in Heaven was meeting her needs. Her body was growing, her brain was developing, her immune system was amazing, and I had nothing to do with it! I prayed and prayed, but I still worried. Maybe I should have read my bible more and maybe I would come across this verse and maybe then, I would have found comfort in knowing that Celia's needs were met; they always have been, and they always will be. Her life was not only saved, but He was and is still taking care of her.
I do the best that I can, and that is what God asks of me. I am so happy to know that when things are out of my control (which they technically always are), that He is there to take over. Worry is bad, disabling, unhealthy, and not in God's plan. Of course I need to do my part and do the best that I can for my family; but I need not worry. Phew.
Celia is now a "whopping" 17 pounds :)
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