Suffering

I don't know why children get sick on holidays. I only know that I love my son more than my own life and his suffering is killing me. I will clean up gallons of vomit and dozens of terrible diapers. I will lay awake at 2 am on Christmas morning listening to his constant whimpering downstairs with his father. And I will never stop hurting until he's well again.

flaws

Not all the time, but sometimes, it's good to recognize your own flaws, I think. Hard, but important. Ugly, but helpful for forcing honesty and improving yourself. If I'm being honest, I do it because I'm afraid that if I'm not careful about finding my flaws, I'm going to become (or stay) a person that other people don't want to be around.

Sometimes...

I feel or act smug and superior.

I employ false modesty or self-deprecation because it's more acceptable or attractive.

I drag out suffering to draw your sympathy.

I act like/convince myself that things are rough. (No one has ever written better about this tendency than Girl's Gone Child -- I highly recommend her post In Defense of Happiness. "...so that people could see that I was real and in pain, legitimate.")

I shut you out and refuse to let go of (probably unwarranted) bad moods.

I blame and hate myself when I make mistakes, can't fix what needs fixing, or can't do what needs doing.

The last one stands out from the others, not because it's perceived as worse, but because it's almost perceived as a good thing. Forgiving and accepting when you fall short seems lazy and irresponsible. It's natural to cling to this flaw. It isn't as embarrassing. To me it's the easiest to talk about.

A lot of people don't find value in romance novels, even the bestseller-list ones, but I've always been partial to Nora Roberts. I was re-reading one of her classics (Carnal Innocence), and I came across a passage that jumped out at me. The protagonist, a woman needing a rest from her high-pressure life, had recently shot and killed a madman in self defense.

She would not search for a way to put the blame on herself. She would not agonize over how she could have avoided, prevented, or changed the outcome. That was the old Caroline's weakness, that delusion of self-importance that had made her believe she had the right, the responsibility, the power to bear all burdens [...] No, Caroline Waverly was not going to listen to that sneaky little voice that crept inside her brain to whisper about blame and fault and mistakes.

The delusion of self-importance. To attempt to bear all burdens... to come up inadequate... to be egotistical? I can add it to the list.

A note on real humility: www.becomingminimalist.com/2011/01/10/the-hidden-power-of-humility.

~ ~ ~

P.S. We're still sick.

P.P.S. We're getting better.

P.P.P.S. Everything we own is now stained amoxicillin-pink.

helpless

I had plans for this blog. I was going to post on Christmas about how different the holiday is with a baby. I was going to post on the last day of 2010 about what the year has meant to me, how it has changed everything, how I'm a new person and I will always feel love and warmth for the rest of my life when I think of that year. The Year of Fletcher.

I was going to post a little parade of my favorite 2010 photos. I also was going to post the ton of holiday photos (and a video or two) that we took in the last couple weeks.

But we are sick.

Oh are we sick.

Caring for a sick baby when I'm so sick myself is a new challenge. As one year ended and another began, we had coughing and mucus and screaming and earaches and headaches and congestion and tears. I bounced him and walked with him and cried with him.

Andy came home and took over. I went upstairs and lay back down in bed, listening to Fletcher wail downstairs, and I sobbed. A little for my pain. A little for his.

I have barely slept. My throat is on fire. My face feels like it has been beaten, and my ears hurt more than they ever have. None of it compares with the helplessness, the desperation in his cries and I can't fix it.

Happy New Year, world. I hope things can only get better.

24w 2d caution

Every day, sometimes multiple times, Andy tells me to drive carefully, be careful, take care of the little one, etc. In fact, moments after I wrote that sentence, he called to say hello, and when I mentioned that I'd stop by during his (dinner) lunch hour, he said, "Drive carefully."

It's endearing. And even when it may not be necessary for me to hear it, I'm only too eager to accept that safe is definitely better than sorry in any matter relating to the little one. In this case, his habit of repeating himself is a good thing.

It isn't surprising that the instinct to protect has already come out in both of us. It's why I've started counting kicks. It's why I went to the emergency room when I could've waited out my illness. It's why I wear my seatbelt the proper way now. It's why I only have eight ounces or so of caffeinated beverages in a week, even though Diet Pepsi is, to me, the nectar of the gods. It's why I'm relieved that we've made it past the 24th week and are officially in that period where it's possible to save the baby should something happen prematurely.

It's why I love that my husband can, on occasion, be insanely cautious.

As far as the mentioned illness, I'm still feeling funky, but mostly because eating doesn't really agree with me -- and I'm weak and nauseated from not eating. It must be a special nausea, because the Zofran doesn't seem to touch it. However, I predict I'll be at 100 percent soon.

It's strange, but I think the past few days were ones of rapid growth for the baby. My midsection actually looks different, with hollows on the sides of the bulging belly, and more of a bulge up high by the ribs. I'm feeling it differently now too, more aware of the various stretches and pushes and kicks, which are becoming more and more uncomfortable with each one. How quickly baby grows -- a sign of things to come once baby is born too, I'm sure you parents will agree.

A song for my hubby and his mommy -- "Don't Let The Sun (Your Son) Catch You Crying" by Gerry & The Pacemakers, which was their dance at our wedding. Thanks again to Uncle Steve and the wedding band.

The nighttime shadows disappear
And with them go all your tears
For the morning will bring joy
For every girl and boy
So don't let (your son) catch you crying.

23w 6d sickness

Wow. Sick. Very sick. Forgive my being graphic, but I haven't thrown up uncontrollably and repeatedly like this in years. It doesn't matter what's in me... cereal, popsicle, water. It's not staying down.

Could it have anything to do with the pregnancy? Or is it the flu? Is Baby Schultz in danger? What can I do besides pray for unconsciousness to come quickly tonight?

Update: The ER said virus. I say food poisoning, as Andy lost it too, and he feels better now. It appears I'm just more compromised than he. Shortly, I will gather up my pathetic self and go get my prescription for Zofran. Then it's a clear liquid diet for the rest of the day, and a follow-up visit with the family doctor.

Luckily, the ER took a listen to the heartbeat and felt around the uterus, and all looks fine for Baby Schultz. I had the opportunity last night to learn that the baby moves around and kicks a lot in the wee hours of the morning. While it's reassuring that the baby is active and healthy, I hope it doesn't keep the same hours after birth.

Tip of the Day: If you've been waiting an hour for a prescription at Wal-Mart, start crying at the counter. They change your status to "critical."

New Experience of the Day: Being kicked in the stomach when you have the stomach flu.

11w 3d divulgence

Every time I think that the nausea is finally fading, it hits me harder than it ever has before. Of course, today it hit so hard and fast that I wound up doubled over and panting in someone else's office at work. There really was no way to hide the secret after that, not from a woman with four sons. So it's been divulged a little, and I feel a little better for it, because she really is like my mom away from home. :)

Now, to figure out how to tell everyone else...

On the plus side I was just notified that the curtains for the nursery have arrived! I'm deliriously happy. And so so so sick. Please end soon, please, before I pass out and/or vomit at work. Ugh.

We're officially under the 200 days-to-go mark. I don't know why that feels significant; it could just be the fact that the countdown widget looks different. Depending on whom you ask, we either have four days or eleven days until the second trimester. Then, 19 days from now, we'll finally hear the heartbeat.

So many milestones coming, and a lifetime of milestones to go.

6w 6d development

It's official. I've gone from 32C to 32D. I thought shopping was hard before... Now the only bras out there that come in my new size are nursing bras, and even then I can only find them online. Unsurprisingly, Andy is not bothered by this development.

I'm still sick, which is also not surprising. As long as that means Baby Schultz is healthy, keep the nausea coming.

6w 5d sickness

I am so so so sick. I can't function. Lord, help me. The second trimester can't come fast enough.