Dreamers don't dwell...

I know there are people that imagine I must.  They see when I vent for a moment or when I share a not so secret fear.  I suppose they think that because I wrote it down, I focus on it non-stop.

Nope.

The magic of writing is that once I write it, I'm over it.  Seriously.  I write it down, I get it all out, and then I don't have to worry about it any more.

That's how I get through life.  I like it that way.  Really.  I like not focusing on the negative.  And that may be why I am surviving Kenna's time in the NICU.

When I get worried, I write it down.  I share it on Facebook.  And then it is over for me.

I can't sit around and worry.  That is negative and counterproductive.  I can't dwell on any of that.

So, if we talk in real life, and you assume that I'm in a bad place because I wrote something sad...I'm probably not.  Whatever was going on in that moment, stays in that moment.  It's like a Vegas state of mind.  Really.  And it works.

At the moment...see...moment...Kenna is doing okay.  She has an IV in her head that would bother most parents, but since I've seen them before and hers has a bow on it...no worries.  She may not even have it next time I visit.  She only needed it for the antibiotics.  Or maybe they will have taken the one out of her arm that was hooked around her hand and she'll just have the head one, since it's newer.  That's the route I'd take, if the nurses asked.  She did a fine job of trying to remove the arm IV on her own.

And Kenna doesn't have an infection, but her chronic lung disease is playing a part in her breathing difficulties, that and the PDA.  Oh, and they won't try to do anything about the PDA until she shows signs of heart problems...like congestive heart failure.  That's what they tell me.  And I'm really looking forward to that.

See, I could go and get really negative, focus on all the many things that are wrong, ways that Kenna isn't like the regular newborn babies.  What good would that do?  For one thing, I don't have it in me.  I don't care that she's not like everyone else.  Instead, I rejoice that she's here, our little miracle.  And I don't care that every day is a new high or new low.  I'm used to living that way.  And we've had so many more highs than lows.

The bulk of what's going on with Kenna is out of our control.  So, I focus on what I can control...supplying her with milk, visiting her daily, and keeping up with what's happening.  The rest, I let go.  That's it.  I let it go.  And that's why I can be happy every day.  That's what Kenna needs.  She doesn't need a mother coming in all tense and scared and worrying over her.  She needs my visits to be like a party, something to look forward to.  She needs to hear my voice and be excited, knowing that I'm excited to see her.  She doesn't need to dread my visits because I could be crying or sad or unhappy.

There is a method to my life.  And it's one that I'm both comfortable with and good at maintaining.  This is why she has a strong spirit and the best cheering section and is wrapped daily in love.  I love her with abandon.  I don't hold back.  I find plenty to be happy about.  And I don't dwell.