Ug. I hate posts that talk about how crappy I am.
But here gooooeessss.
I’m tired. My body is tired. My bones are tired. My intestines are tired (and that HURTS). I think the events of last week are starting to set in. I can’t stop thinking about it. There are a couple of things that catch me at the oddest times. Like walking into the house and seeing Abby limp with her hands and feet blue.
Or how the doctor doing rounds said, “The next time you’re at a Children’s Hospital….” what? The NEXT time? No. No. No. NO. Or when they called me a “Seasoned Hospital Mom.” That, I am not. I know of some SHM’s. I am not in that club. I’m not that tough. Nor do I want to prove that I am. I’m VERY comfortable in saying that I could not be one of those moms. Three days and my bones feel like they’re mushy. 3 months? Where would I be then? I think about Misty’s friends who have the little boy with brain cancer. Saying that my three days there puts me in any way the same club as them is probably insulting to them. They are superheroes.
But that we’ll probably be back to the Children’s hospital. Not even probably. We will. Maybe you think that’s me having little faith, but I think it’s me just being real. If the common cold won Abby a life flight, what’s going to happen if she gets something more serious? I thought that with summer being here she wouldn’t be so fragile. That I could take her out and let people love on her the way SHE LOVES so much. But I can’t. Back to being autistic and staying away from people (which is funny, because my autistic child LOVES people. Too much. We’re now teaching him that instead of grabbing boobs, high fives are good as well. Okay, I’m teaching him that. His dad want’s nothing to do with such a sentiment. ). I don’t mind it so much, because I’m a hermit . But Abby LOVES people. LOVES them. It’s going to piss her off something fierce to not go to church on Sunday. Pam’s going to have to come over and rock her for a while. And while she’s at it, me, too. (does anyone have that picture when things got really late at E’s house and Pam rocked me like a baby? It’s awesome).
Abby just had one of her check ups and is looking fine. They can’t explain why she woke up choking on her own vomit last night, which makes for some more fun sleepless nights. It scares me to death. When Carter was born he was really sick. He had to be on a ventilator and then on oxygen for a month (to which Melissa or Misty says, “BAH! That’s NOTHING!” Okay, just kidding. Both of those ladies are too nice to ever be like that. To my face anyways.) When we gave back the cursed (they’re the worse things in the world) pulse oximeter I was scared. I was scared that he’d stop breathing during the night and I wouldn’t know. Lance told me something then that applies now, “If he stops breathing and he’s supposed to live, the Spirit will move us to act.” There’s a lot to take in in such a sentence. It’s the same with Abby. The Spirit will act. Just like it did to get me back into that room when Abby was starting to have problems.
But I guess I don’t have enough faith. I’m still scared. I’m still thinking about the “if” in that sentence and not that the Spirit will act in accordance to God’s will. Ug. It’s too hard to think that it would ever be God’s will to take a child away from a parent, but it happens. It happens too much.
I’m not supermom. I didn’t get up today when the kids did. I didn’t make them a healthy breakfast. In fact, Peyton had Fruit Loops mixed with Cinnamon Toast Crunch and Grape Crush on the side. No one bathed. I started to clean the house, but then Casey crushed a bunch of egg shells on the ground (we like to put the empty egg shells back into the container after we use them instead of walking the extra foot to put them right in the garbage. Then, even if there’s nothing left in any of them, we still store the empty ones in the fridge) and took the sharp edge of some scissors along my wall. I sat on the floor and held Abby. She’s getting so damn spoiled. I watched what I wanted to until it served me better to put on a show for the kids. I just feel like the fight is gone inside of me right now. I have so much to do, but no will to do it. I wish I was a supermom. I wish I could just move on and let last week go. I wish I could not worry and have enough faith to know that everything is going to be all right. But I don’t.
I’m too tired for it.
8 thoughts on “I’m not supermom.”
I think you are an AMAZING mom for what it's worth.
I don't know the Jarretts, but I second that … for whatever it's worth, i think you're an AMAZING mom too! And you and your sweet family are always in my prayers … AND AND AND, I wish I lived closer (brace yourself for creepy-ness) because in your case, dear stranger, I would willingly and happily rock a grown woman to sleep … that's right, I would. Hang in there friend.
Personally, I'm coming over there right now to wash out your potty mouth with soap. Then, after I have a turn rocking Abby, we can play two person Bunco and watch some trashy tv.
Lexi, you don't give yourself enough credit. You are so many things I'd love to be. (((hugs))) <— You're my first virtual hug. Well, my mom does this to me all the time in emails but I've never passed it along until now. I hope you liked it.
I agree with everything said. And I'd love to join Pam and come watch some trashy tv with you! (That makes me laugh and scratch my head that she said that – but that happens with many things that come from Pam)You are doing great. You ARE one of those superhero moms in my book. Promise! And no – I wouldn't even say anything like that behind your back. oxygen does suck. no matter how long you have it!
You know, it's ok to be tired and depressed for a little while, especially when you're recoving from something that is tiring and depressing.Heck, I go into hermit mode whenever we come back from vacation anyways, I don't have any of your excuses.So give yourself permission to be tired and sad, and watch TV, and know that we're all praying for you.
Everybody else up there ^^^ is much better with the pep talks (whether it's tough love or comfort) than I am. I'll just second the advice to allow yourself some downtime for a while. It's true–what you went through is traumatic, and the part that sucks the worst is that now you'll have a really hard time not being a scared, raw bundle of nerves every time Abby gets a sniffle or fever. Not wanting to put her down after you almost lost her is the correct response here. Also, being unable to get back into your regular routine for a while is completely normal. You had to halt everything normal and routine and put your entire focus into what was going on with Abby and it's really hard to shift gears again after that. Especially since you were just going along like normal up until she got sick–you'd just been able to stop her breathing treatments, you no longer felt the need for her to see the pulmonologist, you felt OK with her being in crowds, and then WHAM! She's being Life Flighted to Primary's because she can't breathe. FROM A COLD. It's totally legit to be scared out of your mind when you've been through something like that and are being told it probably isn't the last time you'll have to do it. It'd be really scary to let your guard down again, actually. That's where the faith comes in–and lots and lots of praying that you'll be open to inspiration when you need to be. Hopefully getting this all written out is cathartic and will help you work out all the stuff going on in your head and heart. Totally let people take care of you. They want to do it, and they'll be blessed for it, and so will you. Love you tons and tons!
Oh, and oxygen and pulse oximeters really do suck. Mostly the oximeters. Doesn't matter how long you have them. But Casey grabbing boobs to say hello is awesome. He's just doing what most males would love to do but are too scared to. They're fascinating and squishy and look like they're made to be squeezed–ah-OOOO-ga!