Reevaluating

I didn't say this in my post about the Epic Memorial Day Weekend, but I'm convinced that if I lived somewhere else, or somewhen else, I'd have died last weekend.  I'm not exaggerating or overreacting or looking for sympathy; I truly believe that I'd have died.  My death certificate would have said something about "dehydration as a complication of diahrrea/vomiting".  Or as my great-uncle's said: "dysentery".  He died when he was only a baby.

I've never had an experience like this before.  Until last weekend I had only been hospitalized once, and that was to have a baby.  And I had been to the ER once, for a broken wrist.  I consider myself to be strong, healthy, an athlete.  I hadn't missed a single day of work since I had Bell's Palsy in 2007, and before that, since I had the flu.  So I'm not exaggerating when I say this is the sickest I've *ever* been.

The entire experience has me re-evaluating everything.  Everything.  I wrote this in an email to J, and thought, I really need to blog it... so here are exerpts:

I keep thinking, "I just had a baby, and I could have died. That would be it. My baby would grow up without me." Usually followed by, "At least I'd leave something behind." Followed by, "Holy shit, I should be dead." I totally feel like I'm living on borrowed time now. Hope I didn't tick Death off by escaping, you know?

The other weird thing is that I always thought I was the strong one. I haven't been sick in years. I work out. I eat well, you know, all that shit. And here comes a nasty killing bug and it tried to kill ME. Not my baby, not my mom, not my wimpy big scary husband, but ME. That's some fucked up shit.

[And then re a situation at work:] Like I can't believe I'm having to waste energy on this shit, I should be dead! I know it is just circumstances, but it seems like *nothing* is going right for me right now, and the [thing] is just one more comedy of errors to fuck my shit up. And all I want to do is be home with Zoë. Soooo badly. This made me want to stay home sooooo badly. I mean, what if I had died? What if I had worked up to my deathday? And spent my last day here with this bullshit and NOT my baby? What kind of fucked up world do we live in where that is ok? It isn't ok. That's the answer. So really "almost" dying just made me want to quit again. I'm sitting here but I can't get a handle on my desire to NOT be here. Can't not feel like this is a waste of time. Arg!!"

I don't know if I'll quit my job.  I don't know if anything will change at all.  I do know that when I go home at night I hug my baby like I don't ever want to let go.  And tears spring up in my (still hormonally challenged) eyes when I think that I could have died on her.  Every moment is precious and wonderful and needs to be fully experienced.  (Not that it makes me hand her back to Preston any slower when she starts yowling about something!)

When I found out I was pregnant, I wasn't sure I wanted a baby.  Even as I carried her, I wasn't sure.  But I remember when she became alive, human, to me in that 19th week ultrasound.  And every day since I had her I just love her more.  She is everything to me.  It hurts my heart every morning when I leave her for work.  I ache to see her all day long.  I am so proud of her and so much better with her in my life.  I want to be there for her.  I want to be better for her.  And I want her to have the best life possible.  The question is: can I provide that life for her with me working (more money) or with me not-working (more attention)?  My mom suggested to me last night that quality trumps quantity, and perhaps that is true if the quantity is of poor quality.  But if the quantity is high-quality, then more is always better.  So what do I do?  Will I use my near-death experience to make a real change in my life?  Or will the reevaluation show that I need to stay my course?  I don't know the answer.  But sometimes it helps to blog the process.

And now back to your regularly scheduled, and hopefully happier (!!) programming.