The Moments that Matter

We had a pretty intense eye doctor appointment this week. I'm still letting the details soak in(not bad news, just a lot of information. A LOT.). I'll update with that information eventually, but for now, I want to share a few great snippets from our week . . . I think (especially for me) it is easy to lose sight of the incredibly sweet & happy, yet simple moments in our lives and instead to focus on the doctors' appointments and PT sessions.

So, some snippets of the moments that REALLY make us US.

Twice lately, Sammie B has been sitting around saying (in a very excited voice) "Dadadada!" and I've said, "DaDa? I'm not dada! Who am I?" And she's said in the most precious, sweet voice ever, "Mama." That is a moment to remember.

Or how about how Sammie B tries to share EVERYTHING with her favorite people. A cookie? Her favorite way to eat it is "a bite for you, a bite for me." Such sweetness. She takes a bite, then holds it up for me, or B, or Gigi, or Nana, or her nanny, or whoever is closest that she wants to share with.

At night, when she's laying in between us, she leans over to me to put her forehead to my lips for a kiss, then to B, then to me, then back to B, until she tires of it and decides its time to sleep. Again, pure sweetness.

And today, she's spending a furlough friday with her Dada, and oh what a day . . . he sends me pictures throughout the day, and I have to say . . . she's always her best dressed on furlough fridays with her dada!


(Funny faces)


(What fantastical bench sitting!)

(Naptime)

So here's to the snippets that REALLY matter. The moments that make our sweet Bean who she is, and the moments that truly define us as a family. And, to the moments spent with doctors and therapists, well . . . certainly those moments are important, but they don't define us!

Amazing

B ran his first marathon today. Just another way that he impresses and inspires me. It has been an intense year for us . . . yet B has thrived. Instead of falling apart (like me), he's managed to find a way to channel the stress/worry into running. He's trained for the last six months, and HE DID IT. I'm so proud! (And, he said in the moments it was the hardest, he thought about Sammie B, hoping that someday soonish her little legs will run too . . . )

So, here's to B, and here's to Sammie B . . . and our little family. Lucky me gets to love them both!

And so we are well.

I ended up in the hospital, but only for 24 hours, and then a quick recovery. I was a wreck. Physically, emotionally, mentally, a wreck. I don't know what came first -- the mental or the physical, or what caused what. Sort of the chicken/egg thing, but I found myself sick, barfing, worrying and panicking. I wondered if the entire thing was just anxiety and if I was going crazy (but my doctor assured me no, because of the definite inflammation that showed up on the CT scan, I wasn't just crazy). But, I was a mess. I found myself worrying worrying worrying. About everything. Well, not everything. . . mostly Sam. Panicking. Googling. Worrying. I don't know why. Nothing changed. Nothing happened to send me into panic. I just went there. . . Sammie B is moving along . . . at her own pace. No doctor has hit the "panic" button yet, including the neurologist, the geneticist, the pediatrician, and now (adding to our list) the orthopedist (who, logically, sees TONS of low-tone kids). Yet, I WAS PANICKING. Having anxiety attacks the second my eyes opened in the morning, and all throughout the day. Anxiety is something I've struggled with throughout life, and I've taken medication for it in the past (something I don't like admitting) but I generally take it for awhile and then convince myself I'm fine and I don't need it and stop taking it. Then life throws something my way, and I spiral. Like this time. Spiraled into panic and anxiety and worry. Admittedly, life has never handed me worry as intense as that that comes with motherhood. So, I've found myself worrying that maybe I wasn't cut out for this. Because sometimes, the worry is just so intense, it HAS consumed me. And in the moments I realize it's consuming me, keeping me from ENJOYING, I hate myself. Because Sammie B . . . she deserves a mommy that doesn't let "can'ts" and "not yets" destroy her. A mommy that is fully present.

I watch B, and I am amazed at his ability to just keep going. To not let worry consume him. He worries, but he also just enjoys life. Day by day. I envy him. I admire him.

Three weeks after starting back on the medication, I spent the entire day yesterday with Sam. And, I found myself noticing each little indicator of progress. Three weeks ago, all I could see was what she WASN'T doing. Perspective change? Maybe. Or perhaps I really do need this medication. Either way, I'm better, both mentally AND physically. Better.

I've also gotten to "share" Sammie B with both of her grandmas in the last week (Nana came out to help when I was super sick; and my mom is here now) and I LOVE watching her with each of them. She's so much more engaged each and every visit ... this too is helpful to me as I try to keep things in perspective. They adore her, and she adores them, so its really just fun to see and be part of.

The can'ts won't all always be can'ts, and for some reason (because my body has healed, because I'm rested, because we've had family here, because I'm taking my medication, who knows . . . . ) I'm just in a better place. A place where even though those "can'ts" still scare me, I can still enjoy the right now. And appreciate the moments where "can'ts" slowly slowly start looking like "somedays" . . .

Tada.

sickie sickie sick

That's me. (Thankfully, I'd much rather it be me than Sammie B, though I'd prefer if we were ALL healthy). Anyway, this is the reason for my absense in blogland and life. Last weekend (as in like NINE days ago), I was feeling crummy, but I attributed it to stress/exhaustion/etc. BUT, then I woke up Monday and started barfing . . . and have been pretty much ever since. I've made FOUR trips to the ER for fluid; I've fainted; I've seen a cardiologist (and found out through a total fluke I was apparently born with an extra connector on my heart -- who knew!); I've seen a GI doctor and the verdict (thus far) seems to be that I just have some sort of bacterial infection in my colon. (yes, gross. colons are gross).

I THINK I'm on the mend, but everytime I say that, the barfing returns, so we shall see. On top of it all, this is B's FIRST week on-call for work, so we've been hoping and praying for NO calls . . . the GI doctor WANTED to admit me to the hospital (because of some more barfing this am) but we've decided to give it ONE more day and hope for the best. I'm supposed to be traveling for work this weekend; we are a MESS! Luckily, B's mom is flying out to help out this weekend while I'm either (1) away for depositions; (2) stuck in the bathroom still barfing and crying about how it.just.won't.stop or (3) at the hospital. I'm hoping for the first option because I really really really am tired of being sick.

And I'm too damn sick to care that even my pre-baby clothes are TOO big NOW. I'll take my ten pounds and healthy body and energy back thank you very much.