MOM- the original Survivor
Okay- so all moms have been there. Some moms have been there more than others. Some moms live in the fall-out of this place permanently. And I believe that you don't even have to be a mom to have been there. Just being a woman is probably enough to have sent you there.
I am talking about that secret place. That place you never talk about, because it's so ummmmm, awkward and embarrassing. The place you feel like you should never be. I am talking about that place where you wind up on your knees with your head in your hands, sobbing, praying (if you pray), and completely "losing it". No sir, you're saying, not me. But I know you've been there, just like me. So yes, I've recently been there. This usually happens in my backyard (my poor neighbors). It's the only place in my house (or out of my house I guess) where I can "lose it" in private. The cool air calms me eventually. What brought me there you ask?
Isaac has been sick for a month with ear infections. My usually happy go lucky, smiley little boy has turned into a clingy, miserable, howling child. A clingy, miserable, howling child who can't sleep. Now, I don't know about you, but true sleep deprivation almost always sends me to my secret place. And I was there. It had been four weeks...did I already mention that? It was wearing on everyone. John and I were irritated with each other, even Ava was grumpy.
I was trying to put Isaac down for the night. He was twisting and contorting his body to the point where I just had to set him on the floor. Then he flung himself around on the floor (hitting his head against a sharp corner, leaving a nice blue bruise and red bump) and then smashing his face into the ground. All this screaming at the top of his lungs (and boy can that kid scream. I never thought any future child would surpass the colic cries of my daughter, but he did). I realized that he was in desperate need of sleep. Tylenol, and the antibiotics weren't working magic. John was just staring at him in bewilderment. So I decided for his safety, I would have to put him in his crib.
I sat next to his crib while he screamed and continued to fling himself all over his crib. I knew he was in pain, and that was it. I don't think there is anything worse than knowing that your child is in pain, and that there is nothing more you can do about it. As a mom, you feel that need to protect, to make all things better. There is no worse feeling than helplessness, and that's where I was. Helpless to help him. He finally passed out. And I was already crying.
The last four weeks had built to this moment. I had taken all I could take, and knew that I could still do nothing to comfort him. I walked out of the room and passed John. He gave me that look of awkward sympathy. After 10 years, he still can't stand to see me cry. And he still doesn't know what to say to me in these moments. So he lets me be. I ended up outside, sobbing to the moon, praying to God, and "losing it".
Well, the nice thing about getting to that point is that something inside you kicks in. I call this "survival mode". You know, you have to do something or you're not going to make it, so you do something. I imagine this is how people like "Kate" of "Jon and Kate plus 8" make it. I was having myself a great cry, but at the same time a renewed strength was building, and I knew that I would be okay. I got organized. I did laundry, ironed some shirts, set the coffee pot, did my lesson plans for the week. I cleaned the house and I even read my book. It's amazing what "survival mode" does for you. I had been wallowing in self-pity, but no longer. What could I do about Isaac? His appointment wasn't until Wednesday and it was Sunday. I knew I couldn't wait that long. So I took a lesson from my mom and called the office first thing Monday morning; kindly asking them if they had any room for my miserable son. They did.
It is now Tuesday night, and my son is sleeping soundly in the next room with two tiny tubes in his ears, that have already changed his disposition. We have our happy little guy back. And I feel like the winner of Survivor. And I know that you can relate, whether you're a mother or not. We all "lose it" on occasion. I think we should start celebrating that. Okay- maybe that's too much to ask, but at the very least we can stop feeling like we have leprosy when we have those moments. Maybe we can even stop feeling guilty. We women cry. And there is nothing wrong with that, because the strength that comes out of that moment is fundamental to being a woman. I think we are the original survivors.
p.s. I think I spoke too soon in wishing Isaac a year free of medical mishaps...
I am talking about that secret place. That place you never talk about, because it's so ummmmm, awkward and embarrassing. The place you feel like you should never be. I am talking about that place where you wind up on your knees with your head in your hands, sobbing, praying (if you pray), and completely "losing it". No sir, you're saying, not me. But I know you've been there, just like me. So yes, I've recently been there. This usually happens in my backyard (my poor neighbors). It's the only place in my house (or out of my house I guess) where I can "lose it" in private. The cool air calms me eventually. What brought me there you ask?
Isaac has been sick for a month with ear infections. My usually happy go lucky, smiley little boy has turned into a clingy, miserable, howling child. A clingy, miserable, howling child who can't sleep. Now, I don't know about you, but true sleep deprivation almost always sends me to my secret place. And I was there. It had been four weeks...did I already mention that? It was wearing on everyone. John and I were irritated with each other, even Ava was grumpy.
I was trying to put Isaac down for the night. He was twisting and contorting his body to the point where I just had to set him on the floor. Then he flung himself around on the floor (hitting his head against a sharp corner, leaving a nice blue bruise and red bump) and then smashing his face into the ground. All this screaming at the top of his lungs (and boy can that kid scream. I never thought any future child would surpass the colic cries of my daughter, but he did). I realized that he was in desperate need of sleep. Tylenol, and the antibiotics weren't working magic. John was just staring at him in bewilderment. So I decided for his safety, I would have to put him in his crib.
I sat next to his crib while he screamed and continued to fling himself all over his crib. I knew he was in pain, and that was it. I don't think there is anything worse than knowing that your child is in pain, and that there is nothing more you can do about it. As a mom, you feel that need to protect, to make all things better. There is no worse feeling than helplessness, and that's where I was. Helpless to help him. He finally passed out. And I was already crying.
The last four weeks had built to this moment. I had taken all I could take, and knew that I could still do nothing to comfort him. I walked out of the room and passed John. He gave me that look of awkward sympathy. After 10 years, he still can't stand to see me cry. And he still doesn't know what to say to me in these moments. So he lets me be. I ended up outside, sobbing to the moon, praying to God, and "losing it".
Well, the nice thing about getting to that point is that something inside you kicks in. I call this "survival mode". You know, you have to do something or you're not going to make it, so you do something. I imagine this is how people like "Kate" of "Jon and Kate plus 8" make it. I was having myself a great cry, but at the same time a renewed strength was building, and I knew that I would be okay. I got organized. I did laundry, ironed some shirts, set the coffee pot, did my lesson plans for the week. I cleaned the house and I even read my book. It's amazing what "survival mode" does for you. I had been wallowing in self-pity, but no longer. What could I do about Isaac? His appointment wasn't until Wednesday and it was Sunday. I knew I couldn't wait that long. So I took a lesson from my mom and called the office first thing Monday morning; kindly asking them if they had any room for my miserable son. They did.
It is now Tuesday night, and my son is sleeping soundly in the next room with two tiny tubes in his ears, that have already changed his disposition. We have our happy little guy back. And I feel like the winner of Survivor. And I know that you can relate, whether you're a mother or not. We all "lose it" on occasion. I think we should start celebrating that. Okay- maybe that's too much to ask, but at the very least we can stop feeling like we have leprosy when we have those moments. Maybe we can even stop feeling guilty. We women cry. And there is nothing wrong with that, because the strength that comes out of that moment is fundamental to being a woman. I think we are the original survivors.
p.s. I think I spoke too soon in wishing Isaac a year free of medical mishaps...
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