I sit here borderline teary eyed and it's only 7pm. When I started my blog I swore to myself that I would honestly reflect my life, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Not only fluffy posts. I swore this to myself because every person has real life struggles and feels defeated from time to time. Time to be very real with myself.
Today was one of those days. Not my day before my alarm clock went off.
I've been struggling with parenting lately. No one told me it was this hard or that it would take this much effort. Seem we have a very strong willed little boy on our hands. I admit I've found myself jealously gazing over at fellow mothers who's kids always seem to listen to them as I'm all arms chasing (while pitting out) mine down the hall for the 4,000th time at kindermusik telling him "Gavin we need to stay by the class, no more running away" only to have him look me in the face, scream no while laughing and slap me repeatedly across the face. Once again I calmly tell him "no" only for him to look at me again and scream in such an octave that one would swear 'nails on a chalkboard' was an exquisite piece written by Mozart himself. Don't believe me? Ask our fellow kindersmusik friends. Or should I say ex-friends?
And don't even get my started on the dog food, water, toilet paper roll, and trash. Why the child can't just leave them alone is beyond me. God knows it's not because I haven't made it completely clear and evident that they are off limits. I'm pretty sure you could find me reciting this very thing in my sleep. Limits are limits. Brother needs to learn. The rules will not be changing. I refuse to raise a brat. I have been patient. I have been very patient, to the point of real tears. Is there somewhere I can go for a patience transfusion because my levels are critically low.
God - did you mean to make him this strong willed because today I'm about at the end of my rope. I'm not able to get through to him with discipline. I feel like I've tried everything and the most frustrating part is that everyone else seems to have all the "answers"
"It's his age"
"It's just a stage"
"And to think you thought newborn age was hard"
"Consistency is key"
Don't get me wrong the above statements are true but what happened to just standing next to people who are honest and have real life struggles and telling them, "yes, it does really suck to have your own flesh and blood disobey you so often as well as slap you repeatedly across the face". Whatever happened to that kind of support?
I know this will pass. I know in a year (probably less) I will look back and wish these days on myself as I will be in a new boat battling new things. But I write to be real, to really remember how hard and sometimes unrewarding this job called "motherhood" can be. All of us mothers out there deserve a big fat raise. I think some of my most challenging days have come while I donned the Mommy hat and I wouldn't use the words routine, predictable, or uneventful to describe my career as a nurse. I've donned the ER hat, the medical surgical hat, the labor/delivery hat, the postpartum hat as well as the clinic hat. Like I said, we all deserve a big.fat.raise.
The hard days are what make the good days so sweet and the obedience to rewarding when (if?) it actually does happen.
But today was not one of those days.
Not my day in the least.
Thank God for a husband who dove in head first when he got home so that I could go reclaim my sanity by pecking these black keys to death. Catharsis, anyone? (grin)
Seriously tho, thank God that His mercies are new every morning. I'm praying for grace like rain to fall on me now.
Monday, July 30, 2012
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
worry and a tongue laceration
"God tells us in His word that worry is a profitless activity. Worrying about our children may feel like a natural thing to do, but in reality it's sin. If we are constantly worrying about our kids, it's like saying to God "I know that you created the universe, but I'm not sure You know what's best for my children. So, I'll handle them, God." Michelle Medlock Adams
Sigh. That's what I just did after typing that and realizing I am "guilty as charged". Worry. We all struggle with it from time to time, don't we? I know I found myself in a half sinking boat of worry June 28, 2012. It was 9:00 am. I was at work in the middle of bringing a patient back to a room to get the usual, height-weight-bloodpressure-chief-complaint-allergies-medications-etc when my phone rang and the receptionist on the line said "Tina I have your husband on the line" My initial thought was "what's wrong?" however I remained calm and stated "You will have to let him know I am in a room right now but I will call him back as soon as I can" I quickly excused myself out of that little exam room and scurried down the hall while trying to quiet the thought that "Gavin fell" from popping up to the forefront of my mind. I found my cell phone with multiple missed calls from my Mom (who was watching Gavin) and my heart sank a little further and the thought "Gavin fell" stirred around ever more intensely in my mind.
I honestly don't remember who I called back first, Brady or my Mom but regardless I found out that indeed like my mind already knew, Gavin had fallen and he had bit through his tongue. I'm going to be honest here and say I didn't think it could be that bad, I was picturing little "teeth marks" on his tongue. I went and talked to a fellow nurse and we agreed that there's not much you do for a split tongue, it's in the mouth, it will heal on it's own, shouldn't need antibiotics because of the highly vascular nature of the tongue, etc.
That information was relayed to a teary-eyed Grandma who felt terrible but relieved that it would heal on its own. The day went on as normal and I checked my phone frequently and had a text from my Mom around 2:25 pm that read "call me when you can". I called and she informed me that she got a better look at his tongue and she used the words "gapping" and "seriously split in two pieces" and "I don't think when you see it for yourself you will agree it will heal on its own"
Oh joy.
I went and talked to our family physician (what a benefit to work shoulder to shoulder with such smart people) and relayed the info to him and he advised that Gavin should come to ER and they would more than likely have to "put him completely under to suture his tongue" Not exactly the response I was hoping for but none-the-less here we go.
Brady picked Gavin up from my Mom's and we met in the ER which is a short walk from the clinic I work in. I proceeded to ask Gavin "what does the puppy say?" knowing he would stick out his tongue and pant like a dog and I could see for myself how bad this little tongue of his looked.
I should have kept in my mind that no one ever said Motherhood is for the faint of heart. I can handle blood, germs, open wounds, etc as long as it's not on my own child. I serioulsy dry heaved when I saw it. The right side of his tongue looked like someone snipped it with a scissors, it had a 3/4inch gap in it and it really did flop around. The amazing thing here is that it didn't seem to bother Gavin much at all. He had eaten dinner normally, was drinking out of his sippy cup normally, was sucking on his pacifier normally and was literally bouncing off the walls in the ER. He obviously has my pain tolerance. Hah, wait, what? They let us leave for a little while and just let him run the halls to burn off energy.
The surgeon came and met with us and took one look and informed us that yes he was going to need to be put completely under and have it stitched up. There was no way to get an almost 16 month old to hold still enough to be able to suture it adequately while he was awake.
This is the part where my worry peaked. I like control and this whole situation was out of my control. I wanted to be able to explain to my little wide eyed wonder what was going on and why Mommy couldn't come back to that sterile room with him. I just wanted him in my arms where he belonged.
I won't soon forget the way it feels to hand off your baby to another nurse knowing in your heart that anesthesia and surgery comes with risks. There really is no such thing as "routine procedure" I felt like I had handed off my own heart along with my pride and joy. "Please take good care of him, he will want his blue blankie when he wakes up, if he's scared, please sing to him, it always calms him down" The nurse in me was thinking of complications such as malignant hyperthermia and hoping they had enough dantrolene on hand just in case. I was not in control but I know who was and I dare bet there were little guardian angels dancing around my sweet baby and he wasn't scared.
The whole procedure took a little over an hour and Brady and I spent time praying and pacing.
The surgeon came out to tell us how things went and informed us that he put 3 layers of dissolvable sutures in his tongue and he seems to be doing okay now, would we like to go back and see him?
Yes, I didn't think they would ever ask.
And there he was. My sleepy little Gav laying in a big-boy hospital bed on wheels wearing a patterned pediatric gown with an IV in one hand sporting a look of confusion on his face. I scooped him up in my arms and carried him, holding on extra tight, to our hospital room where he was going to recover completely. We had to fight coming out of anesthesia and there was a thirty-minute crying episode. He did eventually calm down and sign "more,please" when we fed him popsicle. Such a smart, brave, and silly boy.
While I know I won't ever be exempt from the worry I feel as a Mom, I am learning to channel that energy into something useful. Prayer. I tell myself often, if you have time to sit and worry about it, then you have time to sit and pray about it. I remind myself daily that there is no safter place for my child that in the will of the One who created him. What a mighty God we serve.
Cast your cares on the Lord and he will sustain you; He will never let the righteous be shaken. Psalm 55:22
Sigh. That's what I just did after typing that and realizing I am "guilty as charged". Worry. We all struggle with it from time to time, don't we? I know I found myself in a half sinking boat of worry June 28, 2012. It was 9:00 am. I was at work in the middle of bringing a patient back to a room to get the usual, height-weight-bloodpressure-chief-complaint-allergies-medications-etc when my phone rang and the receptionist on the line said "Tina I have your husband on the line" My initial thought was "what's wrong?" however I remained calm and stated "You will have to let him know I am in a room right now but I will call him back as soon as I can" I quickly excused myself out of that little exam room and scurried down the hall while trying to quiet the thought that "Gavin fell" from popping up to the forefront of my mind. I found my cell phone with multiple missed calls from my Mom (who was watching Gavin) and my heart sank a little further and the thought "Gavin fell" stirred around ever more intensely in my mind.
I honestly don't remember who I called back first, Brady or my Mom but regardless I found out that indeed like my mind already knew, Gavin had fallen and he had bit through his tongue. I'm going to be honest here and say I didn't think it could be that bad, I was picturing little "teeth marks" on his tongue. I went and talked to a fellow nurse and we agreed that there's not much you do for a split tongue, it's in the mouth, it will heal on it's own, shouldn't need antibiotics because of the highly vascular nature of the tongue, etc.
That information was relayed to a teary-eyed Grandma who felt terrible but relieved that it would heal on its own. The day went on as normal and I checked my phone frequently and had a text from my Mom around 2:25 pm that read "call me when you can". I called and she informed me that she got a better look at his tongue and she used the words "gapping" and "seriously split in two pieces" and "I don't think when you see it for yourself you will agree it will heal on its own"
Oh joy.
I went and talked to our family physician (what a benefit to work shoulder to shoulder with such smart people) and relayed the info to him and he advised that Gavin should come to ER and they would more than likely have to "put him completely under to suture his tongue" Not exactly the response I was hoping for but none-the-less here we go.
Brady picked Gavin up from my Mom's and we met in the ER which is a short walk from the clinic I work in. I proceeded to ask Gavin "what does the puppy say?" knowing he would stick out his tongue and pant like a dog and I could see for myself how bad this little tongue of his looked.
I should have kept in my mind that no one ever said Motherhood is for the faint of heart. I can handle blood, germs, open wounds, etc as long as it's not on my own child. I serioulsy dry heaved when I saw it. The right side of his tongue looked like someone snipped it with a scissors, it had a 3/4inch gap in it and it really did flop around. The amazing thing here is that it didn't seem to bother Gavin much at all. He had eaten dinner normally, was drinking out of his sippy cup normally, was sucking on his pacifier normally and was literally bouncing off the walls in the ER. He obviously has my pain tolerance. Hah, wait, what? They let us leave for a little while and just let him run the halls to burn off energy.
The surgeon came and met with us and took one look and informed us that yes he was going to need to be put completely under and have it stitched up. There was no way to get an almost 16 month old to hold still enough to be able to suture it adequately while he was awake.
This is the part where my worry peaked. I like control and this whole situation was out of my control. I wanted to be able to explain to my little wide eyed wonder what was going on and why Mommy couldn't come back to that sterile room with him. I just wanted him in my arms where he belonged.
I won't soon forget the way it feels to hand off your baby to another nurse knowing in your heart that anesthesia and surgery comes with risks. There really is no such thing as "routine procedure" I felt like I had handed off my own heart along with my pride and joy. "Please take good care of him, he will want his blue blankie when he wakes up, if he's scared, please sing to him, it always calms him down" The nurse in me was thinking of complications such as malignant hyperthermia and hoping they had enough dantrolene on hand just in case. I was not in control but I know who was and I dare bet there were little guardian angels dancing around my sweet baby and he wasn't scared.
The whole procedure took a little over an hour and Brady and I spent time praying and pacing.
The surgeon came out to tell us how things went and informed us that he put 3 layers of dissolvable sutures in his tongue and he seems to be doing okay now, would we like to go back and see him?
Yes, I didn't think they would ever ask.
And there he was. My sleepy little Gav laying in a big-boy hospital bed on wheels wearing a patterned pediatric gown with an IV in one hand sporting a look of confusion on his face. I scooped him up in my arms and carried him, holding on extra tight, to our hospital room where he was going to recover completely. We had to fight coming out of anesthesia and there was a thirty-minute crying episode. He did eventually calm down and sign "more,please" when we fed him popsicle. Such a smart, brave, and silly boy.
While I know I won't ever be exempt from the worry I feel as a Mom, I am learning to channel that energy into something useful. Prayer. I tell myself often, if you have time to sit and worry about it, then you have time to sit and pray about it. I remind myself daily that there is no safter place for my child that in the will of the One who created him. What a mighty God we serve.
Cast your cares on the Lord and he will sustain you; He will never let the righteous be shaken. Psalm 55:22
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
