I live in a land of snot dried tissues, medicine droppers, and tea wrappers. I'm surrounded by an ocean of pink antibiotics, sticky and sweet. I am bobbing at the surface searching for a life preserver, drowning in the late-night wakings, the worry.
This is motherhood. These are the waters, choppy and perilous.
If one more kiddo throws up, develops an ear infection, or dares to dribble even a bit of snot I may reverse my way out the drive.
Lu has decided to wean. Too bad she won't take a bottle. Or accept formula. Or drink from a sippy cup. She would rather have fruit, thank you very much. Cut in small pieces with a side of Saltines. At night after everyone is asleep I grab my phone off the nightstand and google "Low milk supply? How many wets for an 8 month old? Signs of dehydration." You know, just some light, relaxing reading before drifting off to sleep.
Vincent is the "The Ill Lone Ranger." I found him two nights ago wandering the house moaning. Before I could ask what in the world he was doing and was he o.k, he laid down prostrate on the living room carpet and vomited. Later that same night I found him in the same position on the bathroom floor. Literally face down, lips on nasty bathroom floor. "Must disinfect all areas of house tomorrow," I thought. Then he vomited again and in stupefied exhaustion I picked him up and carried him back to bed. "Must wash bathroom carpet tomorrow," I thought.
Then there's Ana Sophia with her immune system of steel bored out of her mind as the nasty cold passes through every member of the family. She sniffled for a day, coughed for a few then asked if she could wear her track suit to run the neighborhood with the dog. The long sleeved, sweatpants track suit. Did the fever go to her brain?
This is motherhood. These are the waters, choppy and perilous. You hang on for one more day, hoping tomorrow his stomach will be strong enough to start the antibiotic. The baby might nurse peacefully as she once did. The ache in your own head might lessen, just a little.
"For the eyes of the Lord range throughout the earth to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to him." 2 Chronicles 16:9
His eyes are ranging, searching to and fro. Then He sees us. Our heads bobbing on the surface of the troubles and fears threatening to drown us. He will strengthen us, pull us out in the form of modern medicine, loving neighbors, friends who respond to emergency texts. In light of this grace, we find ourselves drowning in a different ocean, an ocean of gratitude. Thanksgiving for bodies that work properly to fight infection. Medicine that relieves pain and kills nasty bacteria bugs. Developmental milestones reached. Laughter (FINALLY!) from raspberries on the belly. When we count our blessings, we gasp fresh air.
This is motherhood. These are the waters, peaceful and calm.
1 comment:
Hang in there sweet lady. I too am exhausted in the land of prepubescent insomnia and a little hyper boy. Then when they get sick,oy vey! Thank the Lord, He gives us that superhuman strength when we need it. Prayers are coming your way.
Carolyn Ziegler-Perales
Tired Momma
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