September 26 AP 269– Survival. The twenty-sixth was a Sunday. Everyone was going to church and coming back to my parents’ place for a big lasagna lunch. Aaaand I woke up feeling like DEATH. I mean death. Dead dying death. Remember how I told you that that past Friday I thought I was coming down with the flu? Oh man. I hurt and ached so badly all over my body that I could not get out of bed. My fever had spiked to a good 102 ON fever reducers. I had ZERO cold/flu symptoms; I just had extreme miserable aches and pains and chills and a fever. So what did I do? I got up and got Adry and myself ready for church, dang it. I couldn’t miss lasagna lunch, OMG! Plus, I had invited Nick and his boy to tag along and I know he loves it when I am breaking out in fever sweats that soak through my clothes. I couldn’t let him miss out on that.
So I made it. I made it through church. I fever sweated through my clothes. Hot. I ate lasagna and tried to look and act alive. I took care of my boy. Either that or I stared off into space while Nick watched him, I’m still not sure. I think I was in fever delirium. I DO remember texting Nick after he left, while I was half dead, and apologizing for being a horrid mother.
September 27 AP 270– Finally discovering the source of and solution to my terrible illness! I woke up on Monday too sick to do anything at all. My head was so hot that Adry said, “OW, Mommy’s hot, gross,” when he hugged me. (Sometimes you get to hear the brutally honest truth when you mother a tactless toddler. 🙂 ) My fever and aches and pains were getting worse, not better, after four days. Atop of all that, I spent the day hovering over a trash can with terrible nausea, which is just about the most painful experience when your body is exhausted from having a fever for such a prolonged period of time. I felt so sick that I was pretty sure I was dying and I didn’t even care. I would have welcomed any form of unconsciousness.
Finally. Later at night when my nauseated, dehydrated self finally managed to stumble out of bed to use the restroom for the first time that day I noticed I had a rash on my neck. I pulled my shirt down. Rash on my chest. I pulled my shirt up. Rash on my entire stomach and back and shoulders and arms to my elbows AND legs to my knees. My nose and lips and cheeks were red and swollen.
I showed my mom and we immediately headed to the ER. They took one glance at me in triage and made me first priority. Every room was full and they got me in the next available one as soon as it opened up. Within five minutes of stepping into triage they were sticking me with needles trying to find a vein for an IV. Since I have the best veins ever, I warn the nurses: “Every time I have to get stuck I get sick because no one can find my veins and they have to dig around.” And they ALWAYS assure me: “Oh, honey, don’t worry. I am a one-stick nurse.” And EVERY TIME they dig around and then they fail. And EVERY TIME they bring in the one nurse who usually successfully sticks people, and THAT nurse fails, too. EVERY TIME. Once they had to bring in an Anesthesiologist to do my IV. You know, an Anesthesiologist– someone who went to school for half their life solely to learn about administering drugs through needles into the blood stream. Anyway, this time they brought in a paramedic who wasn’t afraid to rough up my arm to get my veins to firm up. He might as well have karate chopped me and then rubbed me with sandpaper, which is totally cool by me because that is SO better than needle digging. And he stuck me successfully and took my blood and hooked me up to all kinds of steroids and loopy-inducing drugs in no time.
Maybe like one hour later I was fever free and my rash was slowly starting to go away. Wow. I cannot explain to you what kind of a relief that is after four days of Hell.
By the way, I was having an allergic reaction to some antibiotics I was taking. One of the nurses said she thought she might add it to my medicine allergy list and I told her that I thought maybe that was a good idea. She also said that I might want to consider not taking them anymore, and I told her that was probably a good idea, too, and I’d definitely consider it. I promptly went home and threw my prescription bottle in the trash can. Then I felt that wasn’t good enough, so I took them back out, cursed them, stomped on them, threw them against the wall, called them fowl names, and then I threw them back away. Actually, I didn’t do any of that because I was exhausted, but it was a nice thought.
So, yeah! My first allergy!
September 28 AP 271– Being able to wake up and get out of bed happily and healthily after a full night’s sleep.
September 29 AP 272– Pandora radio. Dad and I blast Pandora throughout the house nearly every morning and through the afternoon. It’s amazing how music can so easily shape the mood of your day.
September 30 AP 273– Living in moments of complete adoration for Adry and mother-son time. I’ve been struggling with motherhood throughout this whole separation process. Straight up. For all the things I will not be able to provide for Adry (stability, consistency, growing up in a whole family, having his mommy and daddy together [as a child, and even now as an adult, I always felt the safest and the most at peace when both my parents were present and loving/taking care of each other], the list goes on) I feel like a failure. And because of that I have distanced myself from my son because I can’t seem to reconcile my failure with the fact that he still needs me as his mother. And all of the sudden I have been launched into this new world where I am trying to reshape my dreams and aspirations and goals and free time activities, many of which do not revolve around him for the first time in my life. It makes me feel self absorbed and like a bad mom, which makes me distance myself from him further because I feel guilty.
But every once in a while I will find myself and a moment of clarity in the midst of the chaos I feel, and I can just focus on Adry, being his mom, and enjoying my time with him. And just loving the way he looks up and bites down on his lower lip a little when he truly smiles, and how he puts his hand on my cheek and pulls my head toward his when he has something really important to say. Oh, and how he squirms a little in embarrassment and gets all sheepish if he notices I’ve been watching him play or sing and he didn’t know it.
~~~~~~By The Way. I am really beginning to come together and refocus on what I want and who I want to be. It’s still a struggle, but less of one than it was when I wrote these appreciations. It gets better every day. I’m finding my passion for family and being a mom again. It is decided: I am SO designed- every fiber of my being- to be in a committed relationship for life and to be a mother. There’s nothing else in the world I want more than this. I want a partner. I want more kids. I want a stable family unit and a consistent routine and family traditions. That’s just who I am. No more swearing off marriage for me, and I’m feeling good about it.