Every once in a while I hear that doctor’s voice echoing in my head. “You can choose to continue treatment, but life isn’t going to be easy with him. There’s been too much damage.”
Today is one of those days. He’s tired but he won’t fall asleep. It’s been a week of him being up all day and well into the night. 4 am bed times and 8 am wake up times can really start to wear on a person. He’s crying and I can’t figure out what has him upset. He’s tightening his muscles and making everything short of lying him on the couch difficult. Everything. Including feeding him.
I sat him down to color with Erynn for a minute and he threw up. I put him on the couch and he stressed himself into a sweaty mess. I rocked him and he opened his eyes and smiled at me like he wasn’t the least bit tired. I put him in his bed. Surely he will put himself to sleep, right? He’s exhausted. Nope. I’m not sure why I even try that technique any more. It never, ever works. Instead, 10 minutes later I’m in there snatching him out of a pool of vomit, dripping it all over me and the floor so that I can get to the chair and help him clear his lungs.
And there I am, with Matthew propped up in the rocking chair (doing his best to fall out of the chair) and trying to strip the crib and his pillow of linens when I hear it. I hear that voice. And I think, “He didn’t say it would be this hard. Is this really it? Is this what the rest of our lives will be like? Never getting enough rest. Never getting a break. Always worrying. Always cleaning up one mess in time for the next one. Is this really it?”
I hate those thoughts. I hate them because I love my son. I would have made the same decision even if the doctor had said exactly how hard things would be. I hate them because they are weakness. Yes our days are truly like this, but Matthew has brought immeasurable love and joy to our lives. He has changed us all for the better. I hate them because I don’t believe that this is it. I know things will change. I have seen them changing (albeit at slower than a snail’s pace). I know things will get better.
But goodness, kid! How about a break from the insanity?