Congrats?

It is kind of funny. Not funny ha-ha, but funny as in hmmmm.  Everyone told us when Hannah arrived that at least she was a 35 weeker and shouldn't have too many problems. The neonatology team didn't even show up for her birth since she was so close to term. (They sent a nurse from the NICU and more arrived pretty quickly after they saw how small she was, but still.) I felt a little dismissed when people in the NICU would find out how old she was. I felt almost embarrassed to participate in the preemie support board since my baby was so close to term. Most women on the preemie support board have babies much, much earlier than Hannah. My problem is that most of preemies that are earlier than Hannah, while having much longer stays in the NICU, seem to have had less problems then and now(exluding micropreemies of course). A 32 weeker that needed a little oxygen for a day and now is nursing great. The 30 weeker that spend a few days on the CPAP. (And of course I am so happy for those moms that have healthy preemies. That isn't what I am getting at in case you were wondering.) Maybe it is just the group that I have joined. But when they talk of milk residuals, ventilator settings, reflux and apnea spells, it is all too familiar. Which begs the question of how sick was my baby? I can't help but ponder why my little Hannah, who was so close to term, would have so much in common with these obvious preemies. Was I in complete denial or did we not have the full picture? Was I in a hormone and sleep deprived daze and shouldn't have been trusted to make any decision bigger than lunch choices? I have no doubt that she was in the best hands and she had an amazing team caring for her. And for that I am so very thankful. Her nurses and doctors kept our beautiful girl here with us and I try to keep that at the front of my mind everyday.
I just can't figure out why she needed so much help. I guess I need to start digging through those feelings and memories that I have tucked into a nice little bag in a corner. I have a feeling it won't be pretty or easy. But I need to know why my kid's chart reads so thick. Maybe I need to accept that Hannah's case, like her current oxygen need, doesn't have any clear cut answers. That this might just be a trust in God exercise and I need to learn to let it go. I wish it was as easy to write as it was to do. But something is nagging at me. I feel that it might hold the answer to what is wrong if I can figure it out. Maybe not. Maybe it is just hopeful thinking and a mother wishing for "normal" to return. But I do know that if the answer is out there, I will find it. I am a momma bear and hear me roar!