"I'll Dig the Hole"
Please forgive me for a post that's just a little more raw and gritty than usual. I'm trying hard to live out all sides of this season we are in, and to be transparent in all of it. There have been some very good moments, many times when I felt like we could handle anything. And then there have been other moments when I wished I could lay down and just let the waves roll over me. Today I am having one of those moments.
After our encouraging visit with the specialist yesterday, I came home and tossed and turned all night. I've had cold symptoms for a few weeks, and had suddenly gotten worse on Tuesday afternoon. I wore a mask at my appointment yesterday, just to be safe. By this morning, I was really feeling lousy. I decided to swing through an urgent care clinic (you know, because I haven't had my fill of waiting rooms yet!) to make sure it wasn't flu. Thankfully, it wasn't. But I am fighting off some kind of nasty respiratory bug. I left with a prescription for a Z-pack, and have spent much of my day laying on the couch, sipping tea, and trying to nurse my voice back (I'm completely hoarse today) before putting in twelve hours of NICU competencies tomorrow.
Other than feeling pretty lousy, today I'm again struck by the realization that this new "us" that we're living is the new "us" for life. While the constant awareness of triggers and limitations and fatigue are less new than they were a few months ago, words like "lifelong" and "no cure" sometimes feel very much like a prison sentence--treatment and possible remission aside. This thing is not going away. And in the middle of it, my kids have heard things like, "Please keep it down, Mommy's resting," or "You need to be a little calmer, Mommy has a headache," or "We can't do that today, because Mom's not feeling well" so many times it breaks my heart.
Micah had to work an event after school today, so I swung by the school to pick the kids up. They had had a long day, and I was absolutely not at my best. By the time we'd been home ten minutes, we'd already had several arguments, two of them had been sent to their rooms for some down time, and we were all feeling upset. In the middle of all of it, I thought, "What am I doing? What kind of Mom am I being to them? All they're going to remember about me is how they had to be on eggshells, or how they were always hearing excuses about how I was feeling. They shouldn't have to think about any of this. I hate this." My eyes teared up in spite of myself. How on earth am I supposed to be a good mom in this season?
Thomas was mid-sentence telling me a story when my eyes welled up. Suddenly, he was blinking back tears.
"Thomas, are you crying, Buddy?" He nodded his head sadly. "Are you OK?"
"No, Mom, I'm not. I've never really seen a grown up cry, and I especially don't want you to cry. I don't want you to be sad, Mom." I reached for him and pulled him into my lap, and he sobbed in my arms. Oh, Lord, what are we doing here?
After he calmed down, I turned him around to face me. "Do you remember the other day when I talked about bad days? Some days are just hard days, Thomas. I'm not going to lie to you and tell you they aren't. Today was a hard day for me, and I think it was for you too. But I hate that you guys have to think about how I'm feeling, that you, as kids, have to tiptoe around me. I want to just be a good mom to you, to be the old mom I used to be. Sometimes God asks us to do hard things, and he knows they're hard. He helps us, but he doesn't ask us not to feel a little sad about it. Today I feel sad. Actually, today I kind of want to crawl into a hole and just disappear for a little while--you know?"
"Mom, I'll dig the hole for you. I'll dig it so you can crawl in and hide for a while."
Cora chimed in, "Yeah, Mama, and I'll cover you with blankets in the hole, so you stay warm!"
"Yeah, we'll make the hole, Mom, and you can hide for a while. It's OK."
What I wouldn't give to spare my kids from having to go through this crazy rollercoaster ride. And yet, I would do it all again in a heartbeat if it meant being able to teach them some of the things they're learning on this journey. We all have bad days, and hard times, and reasons to cry. But we're not victims. We face each day as it comes, with all it holds. We hold the good and the bad, and the same God walks us through both. Sometimes through laughter--and sometimes through tears.
After our encouraging visit with the specialist yesterday, I came home and tossed and turned all night. I've had cold symptoms for a few weeks, and had suddenly gotten worse on Tuesday afternoon. I wore a mask at my appointment yesterday, just to be safe. By this morning, I was really feeling lousy. I decided to swing through an urgent care clinic (you know, because I haven't had my fill of waiting rooms yet!) to make sure it wasn't flu. Thankfully, it wasn't. But I am fighting off some kind of nasty respiratory bug. I left with a prescription for a Z-pack, and have spent much of my day laying on the couch, sipping tea, and trying to nurse my voice back (I'm completely hoarse today) before putting in twelve hours of NICU competencies tomorrow.
Other than feeling pretty lousy, today I'm again struck by the realization that this new "us" that we're living is the new "us" for life. While the constant awareness of triggers and limitations and fatigue are less new than they were a few months ago, words like "lifelong" and "no cure" sometimes feel very much like a prison sentence--treatment and possible remission aside. This thing is not going away. And in the middle of it, my kids have heard things like, "Please keep it down, Mommy's resting," or "You need to be a little calmer, Mommy has a headache," or "We can't do that today, because Mom's not feeling well" so many times it breaks my heart.
Micah had to work an event after school today, so I swung by the school to pick the kids up. They had had a long day, and I was absolutely not at my best. By the time we'd been home ten minutes, we'd already had several arguments, two of them had been sent to their rooms for some down time, and we were all feeling upset. In the middle of all of it, I thought, "What am I doing? What kind of Mom am I being to them? All they're going to remember about me is how they had to be on eggshells, or how they were always hearing excuses about how I was feeling. They shouldn't have to think about any of this. I hate this." My eyes teared up in spite of myself. How on earth am I supposed to be a good mom in this season?
Thomas was mid-sentence telling me a story when my eyes welled up. Suddenly, he was blinking back tears.
"Thomas, are you crying, Buddy?" He nodded his head sadly. "Are you OK?"
"No, Mom, I'm not. I've never really seen a grown up cry, and I especially don't want you to cry. I don't want you to be sad, Mom." I reached for him and pulled him into my lap, and he sobbed in my arms. Oh, Lord, what are we doing here?
After he calmed down, I turned him around to face me. "Do you remember the other day when I talked about bad days? Some days are just hard days, Thomas. I'm not going to lie to you and tell you they aren't. Today was a hard day for me, and I think it was for you too. But I hate that you guys have to think about how I'm feeling, that you, as kids, have to tiptoe around me. I want to just be a good mom to you, to be the old mom I used to be. Sometimes God asks us to do hard things, and he knows they're hard. He helps us, but he doesn't ask us not to feel a little sad about it. Today I feel sad. Actually, today I kind of want to crawl into a hole and just disappear for a little while--you know?"
"Mom, I'll dig the hole for you. I'll dig it so you can crawl in and hide for a while."
Cora chimed in, "Yeah, Mama, and I'll cover you with blankets in the hole, so you stay warm!"
"Yeah, we'll make the hole, Mom, and you can hide for a while. It's OK."
What I wouldn't give to spare my kids from having to go through this crazy rollercoaster ride. And yet, I would do it all again in a heartbeat if it meant being able to teach them some of the things they're learning on this journey. We all have bad days, and hard times, and reasons to cry. But we're not victims. We face each day as it comes, with all it holds. We hold the good and the bad, and the same God walks us through both. Sometimes through laughter--and sometimes through tears.
