Blurred Time Frame

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, stand a little taller."

 

Yes, those are lyrics about a relationship that went sour but they are also the lyrics to my life's theme song for the past 2 months. Some days have been filled with laughter. Some days have been spent fighting off tears. Most days have been without Rob. Several days have included a sick child and all that entails. Stomach bug to the Swine Flu to Hives to Pneumonia (Yes, that was just with one child). Apparently when my boys get sick they believe in the whole "Go big or go home" theory.

After Easton was diagnosed with the Swine Flu I called his pediatrician's office a few times with various questions. Each time I called I was told it's something that would just work itself through his system and nothing could be done. But, my motherly intuition was saying otherwise. As southerners say, "It stuck in my craw." My elderly neighbor kept advising me to seek another pediatrician. After praying about it, discussing it with various people and getting a recommendation from a friend on Facebook, I took a leap of faith and switched doctors Friday morning. The new pediatrician wasn't in the office Friday so I had to wait until Monday for Easton to see her. By Monday morning he seemed pretty good to me. But when I took him into her office I found out that he had a fever, something I didn't even suspect. Then the doctor did lab work to check his white blood cell count. When they came back almost twice as high as they should be I put on a brave face and asked what needed to be done next. The pediatrician asked about his cough and some other symptoms then told me to go across the street to the hospital to get chest xrays done on him. Now if you've experienced this as a parent, you may have had the unfortunate experience of the infant chest xray contraption, which P had to be in 2 years ago. My mind immediately went back to that horrible experience and I just started bawling, knowing that I'd have to do it on my own since Rob was gone yet again to Arkansas. As I searched for a McDonald's to get P some lunch I knew I had to do something I wasn't good at, something that is hard for me. I had to admit I couldn't do it alone and ask for help. I called Rob's cousin, who has become a good friend of mine, and asked if I could bring P to her house while I took Easton in for chest xrays. She immediately said yes. Then my MIL called right afterwards. As soon as I saw her picture on my phone as it rang, I broke down and started crying hysterically. I honestly don't even remember what our conversation was about because I felt like I was on the verge of a breakdown. But, whether I asked or she offered, I hung up the phone knowing she was coming to help. I didn't know if that meant she'd help P while Easton was in the hospital or if we'd all be back at the house by nightfall but I knew I had help and that was a huge relief. To make an already long story a little shorter, we found out the next day that Easton did indeed have pneumonia. So I'm glad I followed my gut and changed pediatricians. Our new one has been very proactive and tonight Easton seemed more like his old self, wanting to attempt walking and playing with P instead of just wanting to sit on my lap and cuddle.

In the midst of all this chaos, the new pediatrician and our vet said that our puppy was probably contributing to Easton's health. I did everything I could to clear up his skin problem and deep clean our house so we could keep him. But every night I went to bed, knowing that I'd feel guilty if Easton kept getting sick just because I selfishly wanted to keep Coco. So I contacted the SPCA we had adopted him from and the lady in charge found him a new home within 24 hrs. P and I cried a bucket of tears when we met up with his new owner this afternoon and I'm hoping we'll be able to find a KEEPER dog soon. But I know it's for the best in the long run, even though it's sad today.

Life has been hectic. I've been on the verge of more than one meltdown. But I've also learned I have a support group. I just need to start asking for help. I need to swallow my pride because it's not always a bad thing to ask for assistance once in awhile. One of the nicest things my MIL could've done for me while she was here was to treat me to a pedi while she watched the boys. That one hour by myself without any mother, dog owner, nurse duties was exactly what I needed to take a deep breath and know that all would be well. And it is. Life has been crazy but it hasn't killed me. It's only made me stronger.