Thursday, March 30, 2017

The past few days

On Monday I had big plans to run errands, cook for friends, and do lots of laundry. But my sweet girl woke up very sick, cranky, and demanding. I don't know why having one child sick can throw a whole day off, but it sure does me. Around 11 AM, my plans were not even close to being started, let alone completed, so when William asked to paint, I figured, why the heck not. It felt like I didn't really leave the kitchen for most of the day, but you know what? The only thing I can remember from this day now, three days later, is a picture of these boys painting, so I'd say it was a pretty good day. (Besides remembering that Neva was sick. She was miserable, sad, snotty, and goopy.)


Tuesday I took all the kids to my midwife appointment, which went great. On the way out, Will started telling me he was "sick," which usually just means he's tired of sitting and being bored. I didn't think too much of it. But on the way home, when he told me he didn't even want to go to Meijer, I knew he was legitimately not feeling well. Sure enough, he had a fever and a stomach bug and spent much of the day on the couch. Barrett had a slight fever too and also seemed out of it. Neva, on the other hand, seemed to have perked up and enjoyed her madcap adventure bugging her brothers on the couch while they watched a movie and convalesced. 


On Wednesday, William seemed to be feeling better and Barrett seemed to be fine, and my hopes were high that we were past it. The kids played in some old boxes, and I even had a chance to take a 25+1 picture of our last little baby:


But then around 7 PM Barrett felt like an oven, and in my own body things didn't feel "right." Barrett was up through the night (and William too, having come down with a plugged stuffy nose, which really freaks him out at night!) and woke up early in the morning, kind of confused, running into the bathroom for a drink of water. His early wakeup disturbed Neva too, so for the wee hours of Thursday morning, while I dealt with my own gastrointestinal issues, I spent time with these sweet babies, too.


Since no one reads this blog (and so there's hardly need for a TMI warning), I figured I'd share this with myself for when I miss these sweet, little baby days, many years from now:

Maegan, I know you miss having babies, but remember being sick, and being in intense stomach pain on the toilet, and not being able to shut the door, and having babies crawl in and claw at your legs and climb up into spots from which they can't get down on their own, and whine and fuss, and meanwhile you're just trying to survive? (Also, remember having to keep the piano bench in the bathroom for when Barrett wants "a lotta books" for going poop, but he can't hold them on his tiny lap, so he needs a little "table?") 
The week was also intensely sad because Allan had passed away on March 23. My mind kept drifting to my friends and what they were going through. It was also so, so sad to think of never seeing Allan again in this life. The last time I saw him was June 2016. He was dropping David off in MI for VBS. I was decorating the toddler classroom when suddenly - there was Allan! I gave him a great big hug. I couldn't believe he was there! At the funeral on Saturday, Carlos said in his tribute that Allan would "pop in and pop out," and that was exactly how I had described seeing him, too. I remember when I had my miscarriage, Sister Evelyn brought me a McDonald's happy meal. We were living with my parents at the time. Will happily ate the fun food on my parents' deck on that warm May day, as we sat and talked together - Sister Evelyn, my mom, and I. There was a blue plastic butterfly ring in that happy meal, and I put it in my jewelry box to reminds me how my sweet baby had flown away to be with Jesus. Hers was such a sweet, thoughtful gesture, and all this week I couldn't stop thinking about how when I had lost my baby, she was there for me, but now that she had lost her baby, I couldn't do anything to help.

I suppose the road ahead will be the time and place for that.

Thursday was my worst sick day. The kids have never watched so much TV as they did this week.

Friday morning, I was still feverish and feeling the aftereffects. Neva woke up caked in vomit (something I had obviously missed during my own restless night - cue heavy dose of mom guilt), and Barrett wasn't keeping anything down all day. Brian wasn't feeling well, now, and it was just a "brace yourself" kind of day. By God's grace, we made it to bedtime, when I was finally, finally feeling a bit more myself. I put baskets of clean sheets and pajamas outside the kids' door in case the kids kept getting sick in the night, but mercifully, they didn't. Still, I was running up the stairs, wide awake, at every cough!

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