Calming the Nerves

I lay in bed tossing and turning, thinking of all the things I am leaving undone at the end of this day.

Tomorrow is Thursday and I am unplanned for the following week.
Papers are sitting in my inbox, ungraded.
Toys are strewn about the office floor, waiting for little hands to pick them up tomorrow and toss them about.
Blogs repeatedly go unwritten.
A to-do list at work a mile long.
Online Spanish class work piling up.
Still haven't seen doctor about weird bump under arm.

It goes on.  I just don't seem to have enough time in the day to get the things done that need done.  My to do list is never complete, and I collapse into bed every night, craving rest.

However, rest does not come.  I toss and turn and fret and think.  I go through the day trying to find a way to fit sixty one minutes into an hour.

Then, I receive a text from my husband that causes a wave of relief to wash over me.

The text reads: yep.

Three little letters and I feel better.  You see, upon getting into bed and in between anxiety about deeds left undone, I realized I had forgotten to bring my water with me upstairs to bed.  Not wanting to go back downstairs and find more that needs to be accomplished, I texted my husband.  I asked him to bring me water when he comes to bed.

It took him 20 minutes, enough time to work myself up into an anxious state and enough time for the sheets to become a snarled mess of fabric, but he texted back.

Yep.

And he will.  When he trudges up here to bed after muddling through his own long to do list, he'll have our water with him.  I can depend on him; I know he will take care of me.

I realize that this is why I feel relieved.  Yes, I have a lot of work and am behind on it.  Yes, it is stressful.  But, I've got my people and boy, do they love me.  And boy, do I love them.

If that's not enough to calm the nerves and invite sleep, I don't know what is.

Do you hear what I hear?

After two months of an ear infection that just wouldn't quit, after six rounds of antibiotics, after 12 doctor's visits, one trip to the ER and one trip to urgent care, we got Toph ear tubes Thursday.

There he is in the pre-op part of the hospital in his baby gown. See that smile? The child had every right to be a complete grumpy Gus. First of all, he had to fast for eight hours prior to the procedure. I knew this was going to be a problem in and of itself because for the past two months, his ear pain has woken him multiple times during the night. On a good night, he would wake up screaming twice, on a bad night, four to five times. The only thing that would calm him down was if he nursed. So, when the doctor said an eight hour fast, I knew we were in for the longest eight hours of our lives. Wednesday night he woke up twice, once was at 10:00 and since it was more than eight hours from the procedure he could nurse. The second time he woke up at 1:30am and Matt fielded that one. He screamed for an hour and then refused to go in his crib, so he got to sleep the rest of the night with daddy in the guest bed.

So, when we woke him up at 5am to go to the surgery center, we thought we were in for a rough time.

We were wrong.

He was a gem the entire time there. During pre-op, he smiled and giggled and cooperated.

We visited with the doctor and the anesthesiologist and then the nurse whisked him away from us.

Mama did get a little teary as they took him back; I mean, I don't care that the procedure takes ten minutes, it's still surgery.

After a half hour, our awesome ENT came back and gave us his report. Toph has scarring on both sides of his ear drums and that the last two months it's been like Toph has been hearing through a tunnel, but that no permanent damage had been done. He said everyone wanted to take Toph home with them. I smiled at the compliment and said I just couldn't do without him.

After 15 more minutes, we were called back to post-op to see him. He was still sleeping from the anesthesia but woke up after about five minutes. The nurses had warned us that he would be cranky and fussy and very disoriented. I guess my baby is an anomaly because he sat straight up and looked at everyone and...smiled. Not one fuss came from his mouth.

He lost his gown in the process.


He was very intrigued by the monitor on his big toe...

And proceeded to take it off!

We topped off the morning (we got to the center at 5:30am and were out by 8am) by a wheelchair ride out. I remember our last wheelchair ride quite well-this time around, I didn't feel like I had been in a wreck and he was jumping and smiling on my lap.

God is good; He took care of our babe and delivered us to the other side of this ear infection saga. We also learned not to underestimate our awesome baby!

No Grace For My Imagination

Sometimes you just need to read certain things; this morning it was a passage from one of my faves. We know my imagination can run wild; I've blogged about this before. With the trials we are going through now with Toph's ear infection (and thrush, and high c. diff levels), it is very easy for me to "go there." You know, worry and play the "what if" game. It's honestly a very tiring and none to pleasing task to fret; in fact, it sucks the joy right out of you and believe me, there is plenty for me to be joyous about.

This passage helps me; in fact, I'll be reading it a over and over again today; then praying about it so that I might actually apply it.

No Grace for “What If?”
2010 at 2:30 pm | by Carolyn Mahaney
Filed under Biblical Womanhood Fear Motherhood Series Current Series

"What do our mothering fears have in common? They are all in our imagination.

Our fertile minds generate countless scenarios whereby one calamity or another befalls our children: What if my son rebels when he hits the teenage years? What if my daughter doesn’t want to be my friend when she grows up? What if my son gets in a car accident? What if my daughter is diagnosed with leukemia?

After thirty-four years of mothering, I’ve discovered that most of the bad things I imagined never actually came true. But there have been other trials—ones I never anticipated.

That’s why Elisabeth Elliot’s wise advice has been invaluable to me in fighting fear: “There is no grace for your imagination.”

God does not sprinkle grace over every path my fear takes. He does not rush in with support and encouragement for every doomsday scenario I can imagine.

No, instead He warns me to stay off those paths: “Fret not yourself; it tends only to evil” (Ps. 37:8).

There is no grace for our imagination. That’s why our fearful imaginings produce bad fruit: anxiety, lack of joy, futile attempts to control.

There is no grace for our imagination. But God does promise sufficient, abundant grace for every real moment of our lives. That’s why the Proverbs 31 woman can “laugh at the future in contrast with being worried or fearful about it” (ESV Study Bible note on Pr. 31:25)

There is no grace for our imagination. But there will be grace for our mothering future--the moment it arrives."

"But God does promise sufficient, abundant grace for every real moment of our lives."

It's really nice to know that I can turn this imagination station of mine off. There is no grace for it and honey, there is sufficient and abundant grace for every real moment of my life.

I will also give thanks today because my little guy is 7 months old. Seven months old, smiling, laughing, happy to be with me, no matter where we are. We spent two hours in the hospital clinic yesterday to get an injection of ear infection antibiotic and he was happy as a clam. Yes, there is sufficient and abundant grace in my life.

Since When?

Since when do I go 10 days without blogging?

Since my baby got an ear infection (actually, the same one that just won't go away) and a stomach bug on the same day.  A week ago today Matt and I were just now going to bed because we had spent the hours of 1am-4am at the pediatric ER.  That was the stomach bug and possibly a bad reaction to a new antibiotic introduced to fight the ear infection.

This week has been the longest one of my life; as a mother you will do anything to take your child's pain away and when it just seems to linger, it can make you feel out of control, guilty, sad, crazy and angry.  After every bout of vomit, diahrrea, ear pulling and screaming in pain, I just want to stomp into our doctor's office, grab her by the neck and yell, "MAKE HIM BETTER!!!!" (And we all know I am not this type of person, but I am reaching my limit.)  I know that's incredibly unreasonable but the kid isn't getting better.  They told us it could last up to two weeks but seriously.  He's breastfed.  In my mind, that means he should have an immune system of steel.  He won't take solids, and he is just not his normal self.

This is the hard part of being a mom, I know this.  He is totally incapable of making himself feel better and he is incapable of telling us how he feels or what we can do to fix it.  He needs me more than ever, even when it's just so he can scream in my arms or vomit all over me or poop all over me.  One thing I have learned is that as a mother, when your baby is throwing up on you, your first instinct isn't to point the baby in a way so that the vomit won't get on you, the first instinct is to cradle the baby closer to you because you know how bad it feels to throw up.  Ugh!

I just want to take it from him...I'd take all this pain he's going through gladly.  But no one seems to be letting me do that.

I just looked at the monitor while he's sleeping and he just pulled his ear in his sleep.  Hear that? It's my heart, just breaking for him.

Rough Couple of Days

On his six month birthday, Toph got sick! We're talking constant crying, fever, runny nose, heavy congestion, and him giving us the stink eye every time we brushed against his ears.  Yikes.  You know what that means.

Sunday night was the worst! He wouldn't sleep unless he was sleeping on one of us, and even then the sleep was fitful, with him moaning, waking up frequently.  The kicker was when he refused to eat.  Um, the one thing I care about the most and spend a lot of time thinking about is what he eats, when he eats and how much he eats.  So, the fact that he was not eating did not sit well with me.  We went to the doctor and sure enough, double ear infection.  He refused Pedialyte, which was rude of him considering I went and bought him a special sippy cup just for him.  He didn't refuse a bottle, which hurt my feelings, but the doctor said it was because it was too much work for him to nurse and that it hurt his ears too much.  Poor baby. I guess bottles are less work.  After a whole day of sleeping and crying, he finally showed signs of his old self at about 6pm last night.  Right now, he's sleeping it out:

No, I don't put him in his crib like that. That's all him, the little wiggle worm.

Oh yes, they gave me antibiotics that I must administer twice a day. May I just say that giving a 6 month old gross antibiotics is one of the most unsavory jobs I have ever had. He gets mad, I get sad, and we have nine more days of it.

This. Too. Shall. Pass.

It's 5:30am right now and while I don't have too much time, I wanted to take a minute to talk about my darling, very, very ill, husband.
I have known this man for 10 years.  In these 10 years, he has gotten the occasional seasonal cold and he has battled allergies.  I have never known him to have stomach problems and these colds are nothing that some Tylenol cold and flu can't knock out.
Imagine his surprise when he started getting sick on Sunday only to find that the Tylenol cold and flu was not working.  Didn't do a thing to assuage his sore throat, raspy cough and painful ears.  Things got worse Monday, the first day of school and he came home with NO VOICE.  By Monday night he was immobile on the couch, with a throat the hurt so bad he couldn't even muster up a cough.  The kind of sore throat where it's painful to take a drink of anything, be it cold or hot.  He also was complaining of ear pain.  We called White Glove (more on them later!) and set up a time for him to be seen yesterday.  Since he really is never sick, I underestimated the severity of his illness and went about business as usual yesterday morning and left for work, assuming he could drive the baby to daycare.

Y'all, he was too sick to drive.

Anyway, he was indeed diagnosed with a double ear infection, strep throat and sinusitis.  All of that, plus he had to take care of a baby (the whole time wearing a mask and gloves).  I felt terrible because I should've just taken him to daycare, but again, my experience with a sick husband is limited.

So, pray for my one and only.  He is not showing any signs of getting better, but today is his second day of antibiotics.  I'll be taking the kid to daycare, more so for Matt than for him.  I am feeling much better, just a little self conscious because I can't wear eyemakeup or contacts for a week.

Just trying to go with the flow here, but let me tell you, it's DIFFICULT.

PS
I did start work and I have a wonderful class.  As a whole they work well together, are polite and very sweet. I have a really big class so it will probably be split up with another teacher and I'm honestly a little sad about it; I want all of them. Just goes to show that no matter what, God looks upon me with favor.

Quasimodo

I woke up this morning looking like Quasimodo. My eye was swollen shut, crusted with what can only be called eye snot.  I couldn't in good conscience go to a room full of healthy and happy eight year olds and give them conjunctivitis too.  Just couldn't do it.  Not only do I have pink eye but I also have a sinus infection and the viral infection that my darling boy gave me.

So yeah, I had to miss the first day of school, which kills me.  Plus, I'm at home but the doctor said to leave Toph at the daycare until at least 3:00 to let the eye drops start working, otherwise I'll just give it back to him.

This too shall pass. Say it with me.  Now we just need to get Matt well.

When It Rains...

It pours.  But we don't mind getting wet around here.

That's what they say when several things go wrong at once.  Let's see here:

• Tophie got sick for the first time this week, and while the brunt of it seems to have passed; now it's morphed into an occasional cough and drippy nose.  The only time it appears to bother him is when he tries to nurse but is unable to breathe through his nose; the fact that he has to unlatch to breathe seems to really annoy him.  
• Did I forget to mention his first time getting sick happened to coincide with our first week back on contract? So that was another thing; I have already taken one of my personal days and Matt has taken two.  Not that we mind, but still.  
• Oh; did I mention I caught my baby's lovely little viral infection? Yep; so I am now sick, feeling a little better than yesterday (which was the worst; my whole body was aching and I was shivering and snotting and coughing aaaaand trying to get stuff ready in my room for my students, who will be in the building on Monday), however, today my entire voice is gone! Yep, that's right, I am unable to speak at this very moment.  And when I do attempt to speak, I sound like an old man, according to my husband.
• To top all of that off, my hubs got some unfavorable news from his school yesterday; nothing that is too terribly bad but still, a disappointment.  
• And then, we get home after a long first week back, and what do we find? Our upstairs carpet has a big wet spot.  I was honestly praying it was because the cat peed there.  No such luck.  A pipe is leaking from our washer and causing that mess.  In other words, if we don't remedy this quick, we'll have a shortcut from the upstairs to the downstairs that will not involve using stairs.
• While we're at it, my husband also got this little viral infection and I've never seen him so sick. Normally he toughs it out, but he has been a zombie today; coughing really hard and complaining of body aches and a sore throat.
• Toph also developed conjunctivitis during this whole viral thing and Mama officially has that now.  I had to throw away a perfectly good pair of contacts because of the eye snot.  So, tomorrow, when personal appearance is super important, I'll be sporting my glasses (if I can find them) and sneakily trying to wipe away any matter that builds up.  Forget missing; tomorrow is the first day of school.  I just hope I can talk.

I'll admit, this is annoying and off-putting.  I mean really? Right before the kids come back? Really? But, through all of it, I keep remembering that no matter what, God looks upon us with favor.  He would never give us anything we truly couldn't handle and today while I was in the shower and feeling particularly sorry for myself, I remembered that.  Then I bucked up and put my big girl panties undergarments on and dealt with it. I am somebody's mom and somebody's wife and those somebodies depend on me.

This too shall pass, and our immune systems will be the stronger for it.

Scared!

We just found out that a man tried to break into our house yesterday. He was shaking our door violently and trying pushing on the door knob hard.  A neighbor asked him what he was doing and he rushed toward her like he was going to attack her.  He then returned to our neighborhood today and tried to break into our other neighbors house, then walked over to yet another neighbor's house and tried to break into their car.  That neighbor caught him in the act and the guy then started taunting our neighbor before leaving, saying he would be back.  The guy did all this in broad daylight without wearing a shirt.  The cops gave us a case number and we are to call 911 if we see him.

This guy can have whatever material possession of mine he wants, I will freely hand it to him.  However, he will regret the day he was born if he comes near my son. Matt and I know no bounds when it comes to protecting him.  I sure would hate to lose my precious wedding ring, but it can be replaced. (But I will be sleeping with it on tonight.)

Needless to say, my boy will be sleeping next to me tonight in his pack-n-play and next to Matt will be our line of defense: wasp spray.  It has a 20 foot shot and will blind someone.

PS
Amidst all the drama tonight, Matt got stung twice by a wasp.  He's okay though, handled it like a man.

Killing Me Softly

Yesterday little boy had his first day at daycare.  Actually, it was his first two hours.  I go back on contract on the 16th, so we're staggering the amount of time he spends in daycare every day to build up both our staminas of being away from each other.  In the past four and a half months, I have spent at the maximum four hours away from my fella.  Some of the reasoning behind that is that it's physical; I've got two ticking time bombs on the front of my chest and he's the only one who can diffuse them.  Most of the reasoning though, is that I just plain want to be around him.  I made him; I grew him in my body.  He's mine.  It seems unnatural to be away from him.

I've had days though, let me tell you.  I've had days in these past four months where I wished for stimulating adult conversation.  I've had days where I just wanted to blow my hair out, put on eyeliner and use that degree that I worked really hard to earn.  I've had too many days where sweats, t-shirts and ponytail holders where the only things I wore.  I've had days. 

Of course, those days I felt really guilty, after all, I made this guy and anxiously awaited him every second until he was born. And now I want to do what?  And honestly, I think if I were given the choice between going into work or staying at home with him, I would choose stay at home.  But how can I know? I don't have that choice.

High ho, high ho, it's off to work I go.

I've wrestled with this every day.  Does it make me a bad mom to work?  Am I shirking my responsibility? I am surrounded by working moms, most of whom did not get a long maternity leave like me.  They are all wonderful moms and their kids are perfectly fine and well-rounded. I also have a husband who says it makes me a better mom because I work, because in our specific situation, I have to work.  He's right; we have a nice life; we have nice things and we do nice things.  That monthly mani-pedi?  That bi-monthly trim? The monthly threading? Visiting family and friends that live out of state? A housekeeper? A brand spanking new car? Yeah, we can do all of that and it ain't no thang.  And I have to admit, we like all of it.

But we love our son more and I would freely trade it all to stay with him.  However, our quality of life and the amount of opportunities we could offer him would plummet significantly.  So there's the rub.  It's never going to be perfect, but I will always make sure my son is perfectly loved.  Everything I do, from breastfeeding to working, is because it's best for him. 

It is like slowly ripping my heart from my chest to bring my baby to daycare.  They all say it will get easier, but each day I wake up with a pit in my stomach.  Maybe it is already getting better though; I've been up for two and a half hours (back to 5am wakeup time, woo!) and I haven't cried once...and this is day two. 

I've also never had the pleasure of coming home to a precious baby.  They say those first cuddles and smiles after a long day at work will blow your face off.

And and and...I finally have an excuse to leave school right away.  You better believe when 3:30 hits I'll be out that door, keys in hand, making a conscious effort not to speed. 

Alright, I can do this.  I can be a working mom.  We'll be okay.

August, I've Got a Bone to Pick With You

Dear August,

You may remember that in the early morning hours of March 19, approximately four and a half months ago, I made a little deal with you.  I asked you very nicely to not come around for awhile.  Like, at least wait nine or ten months to show up, or at the very least, slow time waaay down to make four and a half months go really slow.

Not too much to ask, if I do say so myself.

In fact, the last four and a half months have literally flown.  It may have well been five days, for how fast it's been.  Now, you're here August and I'm mad at you. 

I know what you're saying August.  You're saying "But it's your birfday this month." Yes, I know you bring my birthday each time you come around and all the presents that go along with it.  But this time August, you also bring about the start of another school year.

I know what you're saying now.  You're saying, "But you always get excited to go back to work.  You look forward to each new year." Right again but this time August, you bring with you the end of a wonderful maternity leave.  You bring with you the beginning of my boy spending his days at daycare.

I know, I know what you're saying.  You're saying, "But you found a great daycare for Toph. The director and teacher are awesome, remember?" Again, you are right, but August, they won't be as good as me.  So yeah August, I've never minded your arrival before, in fact, I've always welcomed it, but forgive me if this time I am not so happy to see you. 

Maybe I'll be happier next year. But today, I am just going to ignore you and go snuggle up with my baby.

You stink, August.
gin

TMI

Sometimes I think I borrow trouble...in fact, I know I do.

I've mentioned before that I'm a big proponent of swaddling. It helps Toph sleep so well and he seems to really love it too. He's slept through the night consistently the past three weeks and I owe it to the Miracle Blanket. When I put him in a swaddle blanket for naptime or bedtime, he giggles and smiles really big. He knows he's about to go to "seepies" and he likes it.

However, I read somewhere that babies shouldn't be swaddled too much because it hinders their development. I hadn't heard or read that before, so being the investigative person I am, I started searching the internets for more. These were the thoughts that were going through my head:
Am I hurting my baby?
Will he never learn to grab because of swaddling?
What if he never develops hand-eye coordination because of me and my poor parenting skills?
Am I the worst mother ever?
There is TOO much info on the web about all things new baby and parenting. There are so many conflicting views and opinions and it makes my head spin and it makes me fret unnecessarily.

So, after spending a whole lot of time on the net trying to figure out if I'm damaging my child, I'm back at square one. It got me to thinking; I am his mother. I am doing what I believe what is best for him. When he sleeps, he is happier when he is awake. He doesn't fuss as much, he is alert and is a whole lot of fun. When hubs and I have tried to put him down for naps unswaddled in an attempt to wean him from swaddling; he has been a big, cranky baby whose life mission is to fuss at us something fierce. His arms flail and within minutes, he's up again, but this time, crying the goat cry. From now on, if I am concerned about hindering my child's development, I will contact his pedi, who is endorsed by the AAP and knows a thing or two about child development.

What I've learned is that one worry will lead to another and sometimes, even a good thing can lead to worries. For example, he's sleeping through the night...yay! But now, I'm afraid to let myself sleep through the night because of my milk supply. Oh, my milk supply will diminish and Toph will not get the nourishment he needs.Oh, maybe I should wake Toph up to eat and that way I can change him.

I mean, last night my little angel slept from 8pm to 6:30am and I was so thrilled...until I changed his diaper and saw that his normally clear urine was yellow. Oh no, he's dehydrated and it's all my fault! I need to start waking him to eat.

I love my little guy and only want the absolute best for him, but surely that doesn't mean fretting over every little thing and spending his naptime on the internet researching bogus parenting advice, right?

If any of you have experienced something similar, please let me know...I'm feeling a little overwhelmed at all the information that's out there...do you feel the same?