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Tuesday, May 7, 2013

sick day.



Yesterday I took a sick day.

It was one of those much needed days spent in bed, with Grandma still taking care of Elliott as if I weren’t there. After a couple of weeks of feeling drag-down and on edge with a severe headache & nausea it was absolutely necessary for me to stay in bed and do nothing, all day, with the exception getting up to use the bathroom or refill my water glass or grab something to eat. I took charge of Elliott for 20 minutes while my mom when to switch cars with my sister, but he was cranky himself and in the mood for a nap so we just rocked and sang songs until he drifted off to sleep. And then, into his crib he went, for a nice long afternoon nap, just in time for me to resume my own nap. Grammy came back shortly before it Elliott woke himself up to have a snack. I know I may never have one of those days again for a long, long time, but I was oh-so-grateful for the chance to take a very much needed rest.

Yes. The day was spent in bed. With the TV volume set low and the cats and dog snuggled close, I stayed in bed, all day.

And it’s funny, where your brain takes you when you are in bed, half asleep, with the rain pouring outside and your head pounding ominously for hours. I am not one that is capable of much that is sane and reasonable when I have a bad headache and I found myself conjuring up morbids thought of putting a power drill to my temple or performing a lobotomy on myself in front of the bathroom mirror to chip away the parts of my skull and grey matter that were causing me so much pain. The weird thing is, it is not unlike me to daydream in such an odd fashion like this when imposed with a headache, it seems to be an odd symptom that occurs when I am harboring fetal life inside me. Granted, I did not have much in the way of headaches post-childbirth (and could take lovely, pain-relieving drugs if I did) put I am finding the thought of self-inflicting pain to be oddly parallel to pregnancy. That, and dreaming about giving birth to wildlife.

And thus, my brain has to go on a tangent about this notion, sitting quiet and still in my bed as my mom feeds Elliott peas and carrots in my living room. Being dehabilitated with a 9 month old at home made me feel like I was suddenly not up for the task of motherhood. In any state. Here I am, with a kid in my lap and a kid in utero and I can’t even handle a normal work day. I can’t stay home sick and still care for my child, instead I use the day to ponder upon self-mutilation and listen to E! News on the TV. The tangent inevitably leads to guilt about always so constantly being hard on myself, today is an off day, I can do this! to inevitably what will I ever do with that family room of ours in order to make it into a functional playroom/office/art room/bar area? And so it goes, suddenly remembering to pay the dog license fee that was due four months ago and marveling over the home I had somehow built in all of my capableness (or lack thereof) for my growing family. A whirlwind of thoughts, too much, frankly, for a brain than was throbbing and considering a bout of passive aggressive suicide.

But there was that moment, I mentioned it earlier. That moment, huddled under down blankets with the kitties snuggled close. That moment. That moment Elliott was given to me with all of my reluctance, that moment (s) where he screamed for whatever pain he was in (was it I am tired, I want my bed! pain? I am teething and I am mad! pain? Or was it unexplainable nobody-understands me for I am baby hear me scream!!! pain?) while I tried to coddle and soothe him in bed, feeling defeated and the worst of all useless mommies and my head pounding louder and clearer than ever before, until he suddenly snuggled in close, face in my chest, and fell asleep. The inevitable moment that I soaked in, realizing that I am a mother, I am capable of anything. I just happened to need a moment (er, day) at this point in time. It was a moment for stillness, that peaceful comfort that brought to me so much realization. Time stood still, my thoughts quieted, and I looked at Elliott's sweet, sleeping little face. His little face, it was all there was in my entire universe. And then, we both slept.

4 comments:

  1. Awe Charlotte the end of the story is so sweet <3

    As for feeling inadequate... we as mothers all feel this at some point. I have a 31 year old daughter that I was sure I messed up but she turned out amazing and I have my soon to be 10 year old daughter who is amazing and sweet yet I look at myself and think... oh I could be a better mama...

    However; I can only do the best I can do each day... that is all any of us can do:)

    Great and truthful post:)

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  2. I recently went through the exact same thing!
    You said it much better than I could have though :)

    You're such a great mother and will always be :)

    These downs just make us stronger as people even though while it's happening it's harder to see.

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  3. Beautiful, and very well written. And I especially love your conclusion, because you CAN do it. I know, because you're doing it! Every day! Being a mom and growing a life and being a wife and paying the bills and juggling the appointments and planting the gardens and writing the blogs AND somehow still sitting at your desk 40 hours a week. It's crazy! Penelope is going to fit into your chaotic scene like she's always been there, and somehow you'll keep doing it all and moving forward - because you're Charlotte-mother-effing-Jordan! And no one will cock an eyebrow at you if you occasionally need to shut yourself in a dark room for a day and decompress. We understand.

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  4. I love the degrees of motherhood that lived in this post. The mother in need of a break being mothered by her mom as she mothers her grandchild. It is beautiful! Cheers to you for knowing you needed a break and making sure you got it, not just plowing though it because you "should."
    As for the miscellaneous string of thoughts...blame it on the hormones. That is exactly how I have excused the dreams- the strange, offensive, sometimes X-rated, apologetically uncharacteristic dreams that come every night.

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