most days i wonder if i’m really cut out for motherhood…
’cause it’s hard.
and anyone who tells you it isn’t hard, is totally lying.
but the rewards of parenting are priceless, and they make up for those awful moments of intense anger and extreme frustration, combined with overwhelming chaos.
there are moments when your son brings you a perfectly picked, carefully selected handful of sweaty dandelions, and your heart just sings.
or when a butterfly dances above your daughters head full of curls and she giggles in the utmost delight — it’s pure bliss.
and when your little boy cups his baby sister’s face in between his hands to explain to her the importance of being safe, you are rewarded with the confidence that you’ve guided them into being strong, independent empathetic little know-ers.
you are rewarded that you’re doing it right.
but then life happens and you forget about those special moments and you lose your temper and yell, or get sad over a silly argument with a loved one and cry, and it takes a chubby hand to caress your check and say, “don’t be sad mommy, i’m here for you” to bring you right back.
but what about the rewards for a parent of a special medical needs child?
we spent the month of april watching M get sicker and sicker. her appetite lessened and her usual perky ways became more irksome and spiritless. her persistent cough quickly turned deep, rattling, and ominous.
when she’s not sick, she needs to do her airway clearance treatments twice a day — each time taking about 30 minutes. that’s not including the cleaning and sterilization of the nebulizer cups and having a power struggle with a 2 year old.
at this point, now that she had a cold, these treatments were increased to four times a day.
darn near impossible.
have you ever tried putting a straight jacket on a 2 year old?
putting the vest on her is exactly like this. and she must keep it on and have it shake her with compression for 20 minutes.
it was all we could do to barely get in two a day…
i felt like i was a complete loser as a mother. failing my daughter what her little body desperately needed. i tried so hard to show i had it all together — working crazy hours, taking care of the kids, the house, my husband, myself…i fell short everywhere. and all i could see was everything that i did wrong.
a wise aquintence said it’s easy to see what you’ve failed at in the day so to change the view. focus on what you have achieved.
so this was my driving force to keep going. it became my mantra.
but then she spiked a fever.
i woke up on a thursday morning to a phone call from her doctor.
“i think we need to take a step back here and re-evaluate M’s sickness and get started on IV antibiotics and vigorous airway clearance right away.”
“okay,” i respond, “how long do the IV antibiotics take? a few hours?”
“no, this is a cystic fibrosis exacerbation, so she would most likely need to be in there for 10-14 days. come in as soon as you can.
it was as if he punched me in the stomach so hard that i couldn’t breathe. i lost all ability to make any words for a response to him.
this moment ranks right up there with diagnosis day.
more intense, actually.
and i never thought that could be possible.