i've taken a long rest from blogging. i've taken a rest from a lot of things, and it has been good. the many, many stresses of last year/early this year caught up with me, and it took some time to detangle my head and heart. but things are looking decidedly up now, and i'm hankering to get back into the swing of blogging. for the sake of catching up, here are the highlights of the past month-ish.
* zoloft. zo-loft. for reals. after several bad guinea-pig type experiences with depression meds in my late teens, i was skeptical to say the least. but so far it has been amazing. three weeks in, on the very lowest dose, and i feel like myself again after months and months and months of feeling off. and it's safe while breastfeeding, and safe if i get pregnant again. i'm so glad i went to the doctor. i realized, once the zoloft kicked in, that i have been depressed for a lot longer than i thought. i think it's been since late in tony's deployment (late last summer), and recently it just got worse and became harder to function. my seemingly overwhelming to-do list has been disappearing at a grand pace, because it turns out the list wasn't overwhelming, rather life itself was overwhelming when i was depressed. it is so nice to not be overwhelmed by everything anymore.
* i found a mom's group on base, and have finally found some friends here. haven and i have been having playdates at least once a week, and i've gone on a couple of girl's nights with other moms. it's been the first time haven has been with a babysitter, and she has done really well. it's great to get a night off every few weeks to go have fun. haven is loving getting to play with other kids, and i am loving getting to play with other mommies.
* looks like we are moving to san diego in october. it's not set in stone (because nothing with the military is ever set in stone...last time they switched orders/bases on us a few weeks before we were supposed to move), but pretty certain. i'm excited, because i love san diego. i will love being by the beach, and the amazing weather, and all the stuff to do, and the great mexican food and sushi. i'm also nervous because it will be way too far to drive to visit family, and flying is expensive, so we will not be able to visit home nearly as often. but i'm ready to be a california girl, i think.
* pinterest. ohmygod, pinterest. that is all i can say about it. if i am still lax about blogging now, it will be because i am spending hours browsing pins.
it's good to be back to the blog. it's good to be back to my life.
now that we're caught up i've got some blogs rolling around in my head, so hopefully i'll avoid pinterest long enough to write some of them in the next few days.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Arlo
you almost never were, and now you're not
but you were mine
for those few weeks before you failed to thrive
i miss your face that will never be a face
and the fingers you would have by now
i miss the labor pains that never came
replaced now by a deeper, lasting ache
that they promise fades in time
you almost never were, and now you're not
but in my dreams you still grow up
and i grow old and hold your babies in my arms
the way i will never hold you in my arms
in my dreams all things empty are still full
and i shake my head and smile
at the false alarm
you almost never were, and now you're not
absent now for longer than you were present
time did not stop when you stopped
and my heart keeps pumping blood that should have been pumped
for the both of us
who will not be an "us", only a "once"
the irony is not lost that you lived inside of me
but we will never touch
you almost never were, and now you're not
i called you Arlo in my head when i read the test
because i knew right then you were a "he" and not an "it", who should have a name
and now it can't be said
not even a headstone to carve it in
just my heart - the only place you ever lived
where you live still
where you will always rest
but you were mine
for those few weeks before you failed to thrive
i miss your face that will never be a face
and the fingers you would have by now
i miss the labor pains that never came
replaced now by a deeper, lasting ache
that they promise fades in time
you almost never were, and now you're not
but in my dreams you still grow up
and i grow old and hold your babies in my arms
the way i will never hold you in my arms
in my dreams all things empty are still full
and i shake my head and smile
at the false alarm
you almost never were, and now you're not
absent now for longer than you were present
time did not stop when you stopped
and my heart keeps pumping blood that should have been pumped
for the both of us
who will not be an "us", only a "once"
the irony is not lost that you lived inside of me
but we will never touch
you almost never were, and now you're not
i called you Arlo in my head when i read the test
because i knew right then you were a "he" and not an "it", who should have a name
and now it can't be said
not even a headstone to carve it in
just my heart - the only place you ever lived
where you live still
where you will always rest
Monday, February 20, 2012
one leg at a time
i want to write about all of the craziness of life in the past few weeks - haven's broken arm, tony's eye surgery, etc. i want to write about finding pinterest yesterday and becoming instantly and deeply addicted. i want to write about the stuff i've been sewing, and how i finally found a vegan brownie recipe that actually tastes like brownies.
but...
but the feeling i had in january of being stalled/blocked, combined with the grief over the miscarriage and the havoc it wreaked on my hormones, has turned into full blown depression. it's a familiar feeling, because i felt it on and off for almost a decade, but it's strange too because i haven't felt it in several years. i'd almost forgotten what it is like.
i am a stronger and wiser person than i was the last time it hit, and i am better able to sense it coming and cope in healthy ways, but it still sucks the life out of me. it's a lot like hypothermia - i slowly start to get tired, and it gets hard to concentrate or move, and i start to lose feeling. i'm not miserably unhappy, i'm just not ever happy. that's what clued me in. i'd be in the midst of something that should make me really happy, but the happy just wasn't there. it's like that fuse is just flipped. just explaining it feels exhausting.
on one hand it is a relief to have figured out the reason why i'm not happy (and that it is not that i'm not in love with tony anymore, or a bad mother, or a naturally bitter and dissatisfied person). on the other hand, admitting it makes it really real, and makes it one more thing i have to deal with. it's one more thing to worry about, when worrying too much about everything is my problem in the first place.
so now i'm trying to figure out what to do about it. medication would lift the fog pretty quickly, but i dislike it on principle (and from experience) and since tony and i are still trying to have a baby i don't want to risk the complications it can bring to pregnancy. i'm so terrified now of anything that could hurt a pregnancy. there is a counseling center on base, but it is going to be tricky setting up appointments around tony's constantly changing schedule. i think that's my best bet though.
when i'm depressed, my natural response is to want to retreat into myself and wait for someone to rescue me without being asked to. unfortunately, my natural response is heinously counterproductive. meaning i now have to not only force myself out of bed, but also make sure i put my biggirl pants on and choose to fight my own fight, and keep doing the laundry, and not snap at haven, and give her lots of attention even when i feel spaced out, and keep talking to tony even when i feel too numb to talk.
the biggirl pants are awfully big pants to have to wear. a few years ago i couldn't put them on. every time i felt like this i would get totally lost in it and spiral into self-destruction. but the truth is that i have worked really hard on learning to cope with sub-par brain chemistry, and to communicate and take charge of my own life. i am a biggirl now. maybe they aren't biggirl pants, they are just my pants. that feels a bit more manageable...god bless semantics.
tomorrow morning i will call my doctor for an appointment, so that she can refer me to a therapist. in the meantime, i will wistfully think of all the blogs i'd like to write if anything mattered.
imagine now, dear reader, that you are hearing me utter a deep, melancholic sigh. and also the rustle of feet slipping into fabric.
but...
but the feeling i had in january of being stalled/blocked, combined with the grief over the miscarriage and the havoc it wreaked on my hormones, has turned into full blown depression. it's a familiar feeling, because i felt it on and off for almost a decade, but it's strange too because i haven't felt it in several years. i'd almost forgotten what it is like.
i am a stronger and wiser person than i was the last time it hit, and i am better able to sense it coming and cope in healthy ways, but it still sucks the life out of me. it's a lot like hypothermia - i slowly start to get tired, and it gets hard to concentrate or move, and i start to lose feeling. i'm not miserably unhappy, i'm just not ever happy. that's what clued me in. i'd be in the midst of something that should make me really happy, but the happy just wasn't there. it's like that fuse is just flipped. just explaining it feels exhausting.
on one hand it is a relief to have figured out the reason why i'm not happy (and that it is not that i'm not in love with tony anymore, or a bad mother, or a naturally bitter and dissatisfied person). on the other hand, admitting it makes it really real, and makes it one more thing i have to deal with. it's one more thing to worry about, when worrying too much about everything is my problem in the first place.
so now i'm trying to figure out what to do about it. medication would lift the fog pretty quickly, but i dislike it on principle (and from experience) and since tony and i are still trying to have a baby i don't want to risk the complications it can bring to pregnancy. i'm so terrified now of anything that could hurt a pregnancy. there is a counseling center on base, but it is going to be tricky setting up appointments around tony's constantly changing schedule. i think that's my best bet though.
when i'm depressed, my natural response is to want to retreat into myself and wait for someone to rescue me without being asked to. unfortunately, my natural response is heinously counterproductive. meaning i now have to not only force myself out of bed, but also make sure i put my biggirl pants on and choose to fight my own fight, and keep doing the laundry, and not snap at haven, and give her lots of attention even when i feel spaced out, and keep talking to tony even when i feel too numb to talk.
the biggirl pants are awfully big pants to have to wear. a few years ago i couldn't put them on. every time i felt like this i would get totally lost in it and spiral into self-destruction. but the truth is that i have worked really hard on learning to cope with sub-par brain chemistry, and to communicate and take charge of my own life. i am a biggirl now. maybe they aren't biggirl pants, they are just my pants. that feels a bit more manageable...god bless semantics.
tomorrow morning i will call my doctor for an appointment, so that she can refer me to a therapist. in the meantime, i will wistfully think of all the blogs i'd like to write if anything mattered.
imagine now, dear reader, that you are hearing me utter a deep, melancholic sigh. and also the rustle of feet slipping into fabric.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
that post i've been meaning to get to
i have always found immense comfort in a good list. i need a plan of action, and clear goals, especially during times of emotional vulnerability. there is something so bracing and reassuring about having a list that i can check things off of - proof that i am moving forward. and i love planning and discussing lists even more than i love making them. it's almost sick how much i love it.
i meant to write this post at the start of the month, but then life got in the way (though i love lists so very much, i realize that living in the moment and rolling with life's punches is antithetical to staying on the list. but i accept the paradox that while i need lists to feel like i'm making progress, that progress happens in ways i rarely thought to put on my list). so here it is almost february and i am only now starting to think about my lists/plan/goals for the year.
last summer while tony was deployed i got into a rhythm that was really working for me. i figured out a schedule that worked for haven and i, and i got the house cleaned and organized. i knew what i needed to do each day, week, and month to keep everything running smoothly. it felt really good, and a clear home somehow led to a clear head, and i wrote glowingly optimistic blogs about it.
however...
since tony came home i have really struggled to keep any sort of housekeeping routine, and the house has suffered and the family has suffered. it starts because i want to spend time with tony rather than cleaning (especially when he works nights and our time together is brief and sleepy). but the more i put off the cleaning the more stressful it is to live in a dirty house and the less quality our time together becomes. when he was deployed, i would clean for an hour or so when haven went to sleep at night, and then the rest of the evening was mine for creative projects. now when haven goes to bed i try to spend some time with tony before he leaves for work, and then rush to get at least a few dishes clean for the next day before it's time for bed. cleaning during the day is pretty much a no-go. i can get the laundry done, and maybe unload the dishwasher, but anything beyond that requires more of my time and focus than haven will stand for. it's also pretty useless to clean when a toddler is awake. i vacuumed this morning, and by lunch the floor looked like it had before vacuuming. demotivating, to say the least.
i feel like as soon as i get a grasp on one area of life, i start losing everything else through the cracks. if i'm being an attentive mom or wife, the house goes to shit. if i'm keeping the house livable i'm losing myself because i have no time for creativity or even a shower without haven attached to me. not to mention that it all feels ten times more chaotic when i'm dealing with emotional blows, like i have been of late. the bottom line is that i am in desperate need of a firm schedule and to-do list.
over the summer when we were a family of two, my to-do list only needed what tasks i had for the day. but i think as a family of three the list needs an actual time schedule for when each task will be accomplished. i know that i waste oodles of time during the day, and working within a time schedule will help me find out where i'm wasting the time and help stay on track...so that maybe, just maybe, by the end of the day i will have 30 or 40 minutes to spend with myself. i think i also need to get back on a long-term schedule for housework. it's not enough to have a daily list of what most desperately has to be cleaned to avoid contracting diseases. i need to have a rotation for all the things that only need to be cleaned once every week or two and get forgotten when i'm just trying to catch up the dishes so we can eat dinner. over the summer i had that schedule figured out but, again, it's different now with three. things get dirty one third quicker, roughly, and i need a new chore rotation.
a friend of tony's stopped by the other day, and it was embarrassing. i've been wanting to invite a neighbor over for a play date but there is no way that could happen right now. i hate that. i want a home that is always ready and welcoming to guests, rather than one that makes them and me uncomfortable. i think that's as close to a new year's resolution as i've got this year. god willing it won't take me the entire year to get there.
i meant to write this post at the start of the month, but then life got in the way (though i love lists so very much, i realize that living in the moment and rolling with life's punches is antithetical to staying on the list. but i accept the paradox that while i need lists to feel like i'm making progress, that progress happens in ways i rarely thought to put on my list). so here it is almost february and i am only now starting to think about my lists/plan/goals for the year.
last summer while tony was deployed i got into a rhythm that was really working for me. i figured out a schedule that worked for haven and i, and i got the house cleaned and organized. i knew what i needed to do each day, week, and month to keep everything running smoothly. it felt really good, and a clear home somehow led to a clear head, and i wrote glowingly optimistic blogs about it.
however...
since tony came home i have really struggled to keep any sort of housekeeping routine, and the house has suffered and the family has suffered. it starts because i want to spend time with tony rather than cleaning (especially when he works nights and our time together is brief and sleepy). but the more i put off the cleaning the more stressful it is to live in a dirty house and the less quality our time together becomes. when he was deployed, i would clean for an hour or so when haven went to sleep at night, and then the rest of the evening was mine for creative projects. now when haven goes to bed i try to spend some time with tony before he leaves for work, and then rush to get at least a few dishes clean for the next day before it's time for bed. cleaning during the day is pretty much a no-go. i can get the laundry done, and maybe unload the dishwasher, but anything beyond that requires more of my time and focus than haven will stand for. it's also pretty useless to clean when a toddler is awake. i vacuumed this morning, and by lunch the floor looked like it had before vacuuming. demotivating, to say the least.
i feel like as soon as i get a grasp on one area of life, i start losing everything else through the cracks. if i'm being an attentive mom or wife, the house goes to shit. if i'm keeping the house livable i'm losing myself because i have no time for creativity or even a shower without haven attached to me. not to mention that it all feels ten times more chaotic when i'm dealing with emotional blows, like i have been of late. the bottom line is that i am in desperate need of a firm schedule and to-do list.
over the summer when we were a family of two, my to-do list only needed what tasks i had for the day. but i think as a family of three the list needs an actual time schedule for when each task will be accomplished. i know that i waste oodles of time during the day, and working within a time schedule will help me find out where i'm wasting the time and help stay on track...so that maybe, just maybe, by the end of the day i will have 30 or 40 minutes to spend with myself. i think i also need to get back on a long-term schedule for housework. it's not enough to have a daily list of what most desperately has to be cleaned to avoid contracting diseases. i need to have a rotation for all the things that only need to be cleaned once every week or two and get forgotten when i'm just trying to catch up the dishes so we can eat dinner. over the summer i had that schedule figured out but, again, it's different now with three. things get dirty one third quicker, roughly, and i need a new chore rotation.
a friend of tony's stopped by the other day, and it was embarrassing. i've been wanting to invite a neighbor over for a play date but there is no way that could happen right now. i hate that. i want a home that is always ready and welcoming to guests, rather than one that makes them and me uncomfortable. i think that's as close to a new year's resolution as i've got this year. god willing it won't take me the entire year to get there.
deep breaths
and then life picks up where it left off and just goes on. not as if nothing has happened, but as if the pain is not the only thing that has happened. as if other things are happening, and will continue to happen. part of me wants to be angry at the cliche of it, and the insensitive pragmatism of it. but part of me is just relieved. it is simultaneously a blow to the pride and a salve to the heart to know that the world doesn't actually end when i feel like it has.
i will always miss my baby who would never be. but my heart and hands are so full of my laughing, growing, troublemaking, playing, very alive daughter that it is hard to be sad for long. at least, it's hard to wallow. for a few days i felt like all i was was sad, as if sad might eat me up and define me. but my beautiful girl constantly reminds me that each day is something new. and my husband makes me smile even after i thought i might not be able to anymore. i still feel sad, but i also feel hopeful and loved and grateful for the family that i do have, and the people who have been there for us this past week.
i don't know how long i will feel a twinge of guilt when i catch myself laughing, or how long i will feel jealous and lost when i see a pregnant woman. but i think i will be ok. i think i am ready for life to go on. i think i am ready to go on.
i will always miss my baby who would never be. but my heart and hands are so full of my laughing, growing, troublemaking, playing, very alive daughter that it is hard to be sad for long. at least, it's hard to wallow. for a few days i felt like all i was was sad, as if sad might eat me up and define me. but my beautiful girl constantly reminds me that each day is something new. and my husband makes me smile even after i thought i might not be able to anymore. i still feel sad, but i also feel hopeful and loved and grateful for the family that i do have, and the people who have been there for us this past week.
i don't know how long i will feel a twinge of guilt when i catch myself laughing, or how long i will feel jealous and lost when i see a pregnant woman. but i think i will be ok. i think i am ready for life to go on. i think i am ready to go on.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
the sanctity of things that wil never be
sometimes the bitter irony of life is almost enough to choke on completely. today is "sanctity of life sunday" (a day of action for those who are "pro-life"). today i am miscarrying my baby.
i have never been strongly in either the "pro life" or "pro choice" camp. they both seem poorly named, to me. neither side seems to even see, let alone grasp, the complexities of the issues. i've always believed something along the lines of life beginning when the pregnancy stops being called an "embryo" and starts being called a "fetus". and i don't believe that terminating a pregnancy is always wrong, but i think it sometimes is. beyond that, i'm not sure.
what i am sure of is that even though my pregnancy was only in the embryo stage, even though there was no heartbeat yet (technically it wasn't even an embryo because the cells were faulty...just a tiny clump of tissue that couldn't become anything more), even though i can only refer to it as an it, it was still my baby. i only knew it existed for a week, and i was so immensely in love with it for that week. i know that it was something precious and beautiful, perhaps sacred. i know that i miss it. i miss the possibility of it, and the hope, and the excitement, and the plans. i miss what we could have been as a family of four.
knowing the depths of the ache that is in my heart today makes me feel for women who are in the position to make an impossible choice. it is so very hard to lose a baby randomly to miscarriage. i think it would be harder still to have to choose to lose it.
losing the dream that was my baby today doesn't really change my views about abortion. if anything, it further complicates things. i try to console myself with the science of it, and the fact that it was only a few hundred cells - which my head truly does believe. but my heart yells "but it was a few hundred cells that i loved, and that i would have jumped in front of a train for". so maybe the "choice" camp is medically right, and it's not a baby at all, but maybe god's heart still hurts like this every time. and maybe the "life" camp would get further in talking about the sanctity of life if they mourned with the mothers who choose to end pregnancies, rather than calling them monsters and denying their grief.
because maybe a tiny clump of tissue is sacred whether it will become a baby or not, is alive or not, simply because it is part of the beautiful and complicated world that we are all a part of and connected to. maybe we all should be more concerned with the sanctity of life on the grand scale, not just with its tiny complexities. maybe instead of sermons and rallies about the sanctity of one facet of life, we should spend a lot more time thinking and talking about, and acting in accord with, the sanctity of god...which might mean loving mothers who make hard choices as much as we love bundles of cells or fetuses or babies.
a lot of the "sanctity of life" posts i've seen today have only made the loss of my baby feel cheap. like the dream of life that i lost is being coopted by a cause. no one else gets to say if my baby was alive or not, real or not, sacred or not, because no one else carried it and loved it. and if i feel that way, having lost my baby in an "acceptable" way, i know that it must be much worse for those mothers who have lost their babies in "unacceptable" ways. it seems counterintuitive that i would feel more solidarity with them than with those who believe that life starts at conception. i think i simply feel close now to anyone who has lost a baby, no matter how or why. do the how's and why's really matter to grief? i think anyone who truly valued the sanctity of life would grieve with all of us equally.
it feels good to write. i have gone back and forth over whether to post this...because not a lot of people even knew i was pregnant, and because it is a level of intimacy that i usually reserve for my real/non-blog life, and because my heart is so raw that it is hard to breathe. but i'm going to post this because i believe so strongly in the sanctity of life on the whole, and that grief must be spoken and honored. and mostly because i do not want anyone else or any cause or side to speak for my baby and my loss. i'm the only voice it will ever have, and it deserved to be known and talked about, even though - and because - it was only a few hundred cells that will never be.
i have never been strongly in either the "pro life" or "pro choice" camp. they both seem poorly named, to me. neither side seems to even see, let alone grasp, the complexities of the issues. i've always believed something along the lines of life beginning when the pregnancy stops being called an "embryo" and starts being called a "fetus". and i don't believe that terminating a pregnancy is always wrong, but i think it sometimes is. beyond that, i'm not sure.
what i am sure of is that even though my pregnancy was only in the embryo stage, even though there was no heartbeat yet (technically it wasn't even an embryo because the cells were faulty...just a tiny clump of tissue that couldn't become anything more), even though i can only refer to it as an it, it was still my baby. i only knew it existed for a week, and i was so immensely in love with it for that week. i know that it was something precious and beautiful, perhaps sacred. i know that i miss it. i miss the possibility of it, and the hope, and the excitement, and the plans. i miss what we could have been as a family of four.
knowing the depths of the ache that is in my heart today makes me feel for women who are in the position to make an impossible choice. it is so very hard to lose a baby randomly to miscarriage. i think it would be harder still to have to choose to lose it.
losing the dream that was my baby today doesn't really change my views about abortion. if anything, it further complicates things. i try to console myself with the science of it, and the fact that it was only a few hundred cells - which my head truly does believe. but my heart yells "but it was a few hundred cells that i loved, and that i would have jumped in front of a train for". so maybe the "choice" camp is medically right, and it's not a baby at all, but maybe god's heart still hurts like this every time. and maybe the "life" camp would get further in talking about the sanctity of life if they mourned with the mothers who choose to end pregnancies, rather than calling them monsters and denying their grief.
because maybe a tiny clump of tissue is sacred whether it will become a baby or not, is alive or not, simply because it is part of the beautiful and complicated world that we are all a part of and connected to. maybe we all should be more concerned with the sanctity of life on the grand scale, not just with its tiny complexities. maybe instead of sermons and rallies about the sanctity of one facet of life, we should spend a lot more time thinking and talking about, and acting in accord with, the sanctity of god...which might mean loving mothers who make hard choices as much as we love bundles of cells or fetuses or babies.
a lot of the "sanctity of life" posts i've seen today have only made the loss of my baby feel cheap. like the dream of life that i lost is being coopted by a cause. no one else gets to say if my baby was alive or not, real or not, sacred or not, because no one else carried it and loved it. and if i feel that way, having lost my baby in an "acceptable" way, i know that it must be much worse for those mothers who have lost their babies in "unacceptable" ways. it seems counterintuitive that i would feel more solidarity with them than with those who believe that life starts at conception. i think i simply feel close now to anyone who has lost a baby, no matter how or why. do the how's and why's really matter to grief? i think anyone who truly valued the sanctity of life would grieve with all of us equally.
it feels good to write. i have gone back and forth over whether to post this...because not a lot of people even knew i was pregnant, and because it is a level of intimacy that i usually reserve for my real/non-blog life, and because my heart is so raw that it is hard to breathe. but i'm going to post this because i believe so strongly in the sanctity of life on the whole, and that grief must be spoken and honored. and mostly because i do not want anyone else or any cause or side to speak for my baby and my loss. i'm the only voice it will ever have, and it deserved to be known and talked about, even though - and because - it was only a few hundred cells that will never be.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
the buddha got nothing on me
after i wrote that last post, i had a really good day yesterday. no toddler meltdowns and no mommy meltdowns. i had an unexpected burst of energy and got some cleaning done that i'd been putting off, and even cooked a real dinner. as the evening came on, i was feeling unblocked and optimistic, and looking forward to a night of peaceful blogging and hubby time. i thought "how wonderful that just writing about my frustration made it go away!".
and then haven wouldn't go to bed, or stay asleep if i got her to bed. i would nurse her and rock her like usual, and she would fall asleep in my arms like usual, and then every time i tried to lay her down in the crib her little eyes would pop right open. it felt personal. obviously, she heard my thoughts about wanting a quiet night of mom time, and she was trying to screw things up (i should note that a certain impending time of the month might possibly be influencing my attitude). all of the frustration came rushing back.
and then she started to spike a fever, and the frustration morphed into guilt. of course she couldn't sleep when she felt bad. what kind of mother resents a sick baby?
so my peaceful evening of blogging and hanging out one-on-one with my husband turned into a long night of administering motrin (let me just tell you how much my girl hates taking medicine), cool baths, and rectal temperature taking (which makes medicine taking look like a party). somehow we had managed to skate by for 18 whole months without taking a rectal temperature, but the oral thermometer was broken and it had to be done. we debated the emergency room. we called the mother-in-law who is a nurse, at 1:30am. and all the while i wallowed in mommy-guilt and swallowed my frustration.
and then something magic happened, as it sometimes does.
that zen thing kicked in.
somewhere between the rectal temperature taking and the next attempt at sleep, i just accepted it. i just accepted that it was a shitty night for all involved, and that there was nothing i could actually do about it so might as well give in. i accepted that i was frustrated and tired and disappointed. i accepted that i felt helpless to make haven feel better. i accepted that she might stay sick for days and we might spend more nights like this, and that's just the way it is. i let go of what i thought i deserved, and how i wanted things to work, and decided to take life how it comes rather than being angry that it doesn't come the way i planned.
baby girl is still sick, which means tonight's long-needed dinner out with friends is probably off. she is watching mind-numbing children's shows on netflix while i blog (there goes any hope left of a world's greatest mom award). there are no clean dishes, but i will likely only wash enough to eat lunch on and leave the rest. i still haven't had mom time or hubby time in days. the floor is covered in balls that have been dropped - in fact, i don't think i have any in the air at all.
and it's ok. because that's just how it is.
and then haven wouldn't go to bed, or stay asleep if i got her to bed. i would nurse her and rock her like usual, and she would fall asleep in my arms like usual, and then every time i tried to lay her down in the crib her little eyes would pop right open. it felt personal. obviously, she heard my thoughts about wanting a quiet night of mom time, and she was trying to screw things up (i should note that a certain impending time of the month might possibly be influencing my attitude). all of the frustration came rushing back.
and then she started to spike a fever, and the frustration morphed into guilt. of course she couldn't sleep when she felt bad. what kind of mother resents a sick baby?
so my peaceful evening of blogging and hanging out one-on-one with my husband turned into a long night of administering motrin (let me just tell you how much my girl hates taking medicine), cool baths, and rectal temperature taking (which makes medicine taking look like a party). somehow we had managed to skate by for 18 whole months without taking a rectal temperature, but the oral thermometer was broken and it had to be done. we debated the emergency room. we called the mother-in-law who is a nurse, at 1:30am. and all the while i wallowed in mommy-guilt and swallowed my frustration.
and then something magic happened, as it sometimes does.
that zen thing kicked in.
somewhere between the rectal temperature taking and the next attempt at sleep, i just accepted it. i just accepted that it was a shitty night for all involved, and that there was nothing i could actually do about it so might as well give in. i accepted that i was frustrated and tired and disappointed. i accepted that i felt helpless to make haven feel better. i accepted that she might stay sick for days and we might spend more nights like this, and that's just the way it is. i let go of what i thought i deserved, and how i wanted things to work, and decided to take life how it comes rather than being angry that it doesn't come the way i planned.
baby girl is still sick, which means tonight's long-needed dinner out with friends is probably off. she is watching mind-numbing children's shows on netflix while i blog (there goes any hope left of a world's greatest mom award). there are no clean dishes, but i will likely only wash enough to eat lunch on and leave the rest. i still haven't had mom time or hubby time in days. the floor is covered in balls that have been dropped - in fact, i don't think i have any in the air at all.
and it's ok. because that's just how it is.
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