My baby is sick. I am pretty sure she is having side effects from her shot on Tuesday. She is so out of it, not her self at all. She is running a fever, tired and not even close to hungry. She is just laying on me and drinking juice. When she feels a little better she goes to Paul.
This morning I debated what to do about church. She certainly wasn't going. Paul was fine with her here at home, I could have gone. It was my last chance at communion in my home church for awhile. I opted to stay home. I felt like her mom should be with her if she is sick. I thought the five people that were in church this morning may have judged me a little if they heard she was ill and I was in church. (I am owning that could have been my own junk manifesting.) I may not always have the option to stay home with her on Sunday morning, moving forward I might have to leave her.
I noticed today though my own junk building up a lot through out the day. I am cranky, I have been since yesterday. I fell yesterday morning and twisted up my ankle pretty good. If it weren't for Paul catching me and the stroller it could have been much worse. I will survive, I have done this before, but it has slowed me down when I can't afford to slow down. I was bummed because we had planned a bunch of stuff that we could do this weekend on the cheap but would require lots of walking, which wouldn't be good for me at the moment. Then my girl started feeling out of it last night and by 8 she was feverish. I kept her in my bed all night and her Tylenol seemed to keep her fever down. It was back up shortly after she woke up this morning.
Bear with me here and try not to judge me too much in this next section, trust me when I say I am taking care of it all on my own. When she isn't feeling well, I get very antsy. I hate sitting still so the baby and my ankle combined are like torture. When I was little everyone in my family was sick. I don't mean we all had the flu. I mean my dad had a mystery illness that started taking his life and a year later my brother had cancer, then my grandfather. I spent a lot of time in waiting rooms in Philadelphia with little to do but twiddle my thumbs. Only one of them had kid friendly things to do. Those were geared for kids way younger than me but I made use of them. I don't know why but I hadn't discovered the great time killer of books yet, nor did I have many. Life pretty much revolved around everyone getting better. No one thought of the library. Hand held games were insanely pricey. I spent a lot of time sitting around doing nothing but staring out windows and at horrible waiting room gray blue walls.
That being said I found on this adventure of parenthood, that when my girl isn't feeling well, I get all antsy. I hate feeling trapped in the house like I can't do anything. Even though today I really needed the rest as much as she did. I had a really hard time sitting here. I got hot and sweaty. My stomach got very upset. Finally I napped while she did. That helped. Then when we woke up, she kept asking for bye bye so we took a little ride around town in the car, that was such a relief. She keeps asking to go in the car. I guess she is comfortable in there. Basically what I am getting at is I can feel those experiences from my childhood creeping up.
The level of anxiety gets higher and higher as I deal with this feeling of being trapped in a sick ward. That coupled with this little voice that is shoved so far back in my head I can barely hear it, it screams though this is it, this is when the next person gets sick. Then I start to shut down and I have a really hard time functioning even on the most basic of levels. I have to force myself to do anything.
I didn't expect my experiences to bubble up like this, but I know they are.
So I am left with what do I do with this?