I know every mother feels at one time or another that she is losing her mind...Well I'm there.
Since we returned from Iowa, Froggy has had a constant cold virus. I think she actually started recovering from one, when she picked up another. Then came pinkeye. And in the midst of the major mucus, she's been constipated, gassy, and spends sometimes four hours a day "trying" to poop. She can't leave my side, so I sit there for four hours holding her hand while she says, "my tummy hurts." The second she has a bowel movement, she's her cheerful, happy self. I've talked to our nutritionist several times, and we've increased her laxative, but somedays are still miserable.
And we have definitely hit the terrible-two's. Everything is a battle. For instance...
"Noooo, I don't like that shirt. Not THAT one, NOOOOOO!," screaming like her shirt is made of fire, rather than cotton.
"No vest Mommy! Nooooo! I don't LIKE vest. No treatment. No."
Froggymama: Are you hungry?
Froggymama: How about a Cheerio. One Cheerio. Just one.
Froggy: I don't like Cheerios. No. No. No.
From giving meds, to brushing teeth, putting on clothes, getting in the bath, getting out of the bath, reading a story, going for a walk, every detail of our life has become a battle. And I'm losing big time. I dread every moment and want to crawl into a cave and hibernate until she's four.
Last night we skipped her respiratory treatment because of her stomach pain. It was a tough call, but by the end of the day, we just couldn't "do" one more thing to her. So this morning it was extremely important that we complete her vest, albuterol and pulmozyme. But noooooo... she made her body stiff as a board, screamed, tore at her mask, and I could not physically hold her. Toddlers have an amazing ability to squirm out of any situation. It's like when evolving, they developed this ability to escape the grasp of a boa constrictor, or vulcan grip. Now, it's to escape amoxicilin, or eyedrops.
While trying to hold Froggy down for treatment, I lost it and really yelled at her. It was a major low point in Froggymama history. It was an angry, loud and frustrated yell, with a big expletive... and I feel terrible. I walked away, we didn't finish pulmozyme, and she completed her vest while I stood in the kitchen trying to catch my breath and calm down. Afterwards, I put her in bed with a milk, and she was so incredibly sweet and loving and of course that added to my mean-mommy-guilt.
And this stress is affecting FD and I and how we communicate and co-exist. He's frustrated and worried about school and I'm frustrated about getting my work done, and keeping Froggy healthy. So we take it all out on eachother.
I'm having a difficult time digesting our lives, if that makes sense. On one hand I'm appreciative of what we have, our wonderful family, friends. We don't live in a war zone, we're not starving, we have access (although it's frustratingly hard to actually get it) to amazing healthcare, we have a bright, kind, adorable child... we are so incredibly lucky. And on the other hand, I'm jealous of people who have healthy kids and don't have a daily financial strain. I miss my family. I'm exhausted and stressed out, overworked, and lately...just sad.
One of my favorite movies is "What About Bob," with Bill Murray. There's one point when he's trying to convince his therapist who is on vacation to see him anyway. He has the most pathetic look on his face and says, "Gimme, gimme, gimme, I need, I need..." It just says it all, because he never really says what it is he needs. It's just something, and without that something, it feels like madness.