This Is How We Do It.

These days you don't fight to get out of the buggy, you don't mind me wrapping you like I do (above) to keep the cold from nipping your legs. 

There is one trait that I have that I hope you do/don't inherit and that is my ability to protect myself, or what's more commonly been referred to as my 'self defensiveness.' I hope you inherit this because while I like to jump to the defence of others (sometimes more than jumping to my own defence) I also like to defend the things that matter to me. I like to be understood, I like to clarify my point but I'm also learning; most people don't care and just enjoy judging you. Let it go and move on from their words.

These days I have imaginary conversations in my head or dream up scenarios where people in my life ask me questions about my day to day routine, about how I 'cope' with being ill and having a child - I assume no one is thinking this but I work through a variety of questions in my head should anyone wonder.

So, I thought you might like a record of this, so we can both look back and laugh in 20 years time or whatever ;). 

The one thing that sits heavily on my mind is the above. I don't talk about illness a lot because I'm scared of judgement; which is strange because whenever the judgement comes I just think 'that's a shame this person is so switched off to learning more about this illness' or 'you don't know what you're talking about and if you did, perhaps you wouldn't be so quick to judge this.' I worry that the mothers who have or had loads of children (to me that's 2+ children) judge me and think things like I can't 'cope' with my 'one child.' That I somehow must have things easy and I'm just being weak. I don't know if anyone thinks that but I'm sure someone has to, right? 

Then there are other sick people, people with M.E who try to talk to me, who I feel deserve to be understood and taken seriously yet I don't extend the same to myself. I panic that they think I'm 'not really ill' and this is another reason not to talk about illness. I do housework (minimal, but still, I'm doing it), I look after a child all day; cooking his food, cleaning his messes, trying my best to get him to use a potty, stay in bed, eat his greens and brush his teeth. All in all I feel like I 'do more' than the average M.E person but this 'doing more' often leads to not being able to attend church meetings and services, having absolutely no social life of my own, having zero friends, barely seeing family as well as taking the judgements that come with not attending church meetings and services - and the repercussions it has on my life even though both God and I know and see the good I'm doing in my own life and really, that's all that matters to me. 

In my heart and mind I'm just as worthy as anyone else who attends all their church services and meetings and is a worthy temple recommend holder, in a church sense I'm also at that point, just as worthy as anyone, doing all I can and going above and beyond when I can. Yet from time to time I feel judged because I am simply not at church, my body isn't there, my behind filling a seat, my voice not being heard in a room where a discussion on the gospel takes place yet in my home, in my mind, in my heart - and with God's approval - I am just like someone who is there for righteous reasons.  And deep down that's all the 'approval' or permission I need. No one is better than me because they are simply at church. I'm learning that it's inside your heart, what your deepest spiritual goals, desires and then acting on them and living what you believe (whether that's religion or non-religion) are the things that count in life.

This year has been all about: adjusting to being without so much help and it's been hard, but it's also been rewarding. Women are strong and so capable and I've felt that so much over the past few years of motherhood. My patience has new levels, my understanding has grown and I feel stretched to lengths I honestly didn't think possible. I'm working on myself now more than I ever have. We're doing well, but we're just exhausted and sick at this time of year. I'm doing well, I'm just exhausted and sick of judgement. I don't want my child to live in this world as it is now and I'm hoping to be the change I wish to see; one day a time I will judge people less and less.

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A little side note:

I'm glad that I'm stretching myself, I'm glad this way of life works for me and I'm glad that I self-question myself so much; it gives me an opportunity to appreciate that motherhood is the making of me, that this is my best and I can finally see that and appreciate it for what it is. I finally know, really know, what I want from my life and that's my son, my faith, my relationship and my family.

Hiding.

I didn't mean to shy away from the camera - there was the issue of my toddler pulling my hair in front of my face, for a start - but it made me think about how uncomfortable I am when a camera is pointed in my direction and how I don't want to pass this onto Roman. I want him to be completely at ease with his beautiful self.

I spent the day very sick - I woke up through the night with shivers and body aches all over - and out of my surprise I asked Bryan to photograph me and Roman together, despite me not looking my best or least dis-shelved. Every time I asked Roman to kiss my tummy better he would scream "NO!" rather loudly and run away ;).  

Bryan brought me through a packet of dried fruit that I didn't manage to eat one piece of. Instead? Roman managed to get the packet open and quite happily munch on them once his nap was done. "Mummy's froot (fruit)," he told me. "Mmm!" and all I could do was laugh, to appreciate that he isn't ill and I just pray things stay that way - there's nothing worse than a sick child when you're sick yourself.

P.S: I nearly gave up on this project yesterday. Today I'm glad I didn't. I couldn't face lifting my camera yesterday and so I just decided that was that...the end of this photo a day project. When I used my camera today I felt so much lighter, so much more free because I wanted to use it. I'm glad I'm still going strong, I think I'd feel awful if I just gave up when we're so near to the end of it all.

Sunshine and Lollipops.

30/366

This is the breaking point of a toddler with a 38.9 C temperature. And this is how I knew to check his temperature; the look of pain expressed on his face. Funny (not haha) how I have become so in tune with another's pain just by having it heaped on top of me these past few years. 

Once the Calpol passed his lips he was 'fine' again - average, happy, puffy-eyed but getting on with the rest of his day curled up in Bryan's lap while I took myself off to bed for a few hours - looks like it might be spreading :(.

Sick.

29/366

Picking up Roman from his gran's last night it became clear he might be sick by feeling his hot little head and face. There was also a tell tale snail trail of bogies streaming freely from his nose, but I'll spare you the details on how many times I had to wipe that away.

Because he seemed okay - maybe a little more tired than usual, but nothing to write home about - I sent him and B off out to church. Unfortunately I haven't yet worked up the strength to make it through church just yet; I'll get there, it's just going to require my patience (something I've learned to have a lot of over these past few years.)

So, he seemed pretty unaffected this morning, but like I said a little more tired. He nearly fell asleep, tucked up under my arm which is out of character but not an indicator of an underlying problem with his health.

I suppose I'll know better next time because when he got home from church he had a very pale face with puffy, washed out eyes. We took his temperature and at 38.9C, it was high. Certainly not high enough to merit a visit to A&E but high enough that I wanted to strip him down, cool him off with a wash cloth and give him Calpol. 

He wanted to go to bed and when we got him several hours later he was soaked in sweat. I tried to not become panicky, with my main thoughts trying to be about him, but the last time he was sick like this we had to rush off to hospital, he got better and I got very, very sick - so sick that I was instructed to admit myself to hospital - I don't want to go through taking him to hospital, being so ill I slept through days and nights and being told if I don't go to hospital that I am going to be suffocated by my swollen glands and die from dehydration because I can't stop being sick.

I hate hospitals. I don't mind being there for other people, but I am fearful for myself - hence why I didn't admit myself the last time and another few times I've been told too. I'll avoid them at all costs. So when Roman gets sick I try to focus on the fact he's getting better and panic a little when he gets worse. 

Luckily, he just wanted to sit around watching TV - very out of character behaviour, this little boy only has a few favourite TV shows but even then won't sit still to watch them. He won't watch films for too long, either and would rather be playing or running around so if he suddenly becomes quiet, floppy and wants to watch TV I know he's sick.

Happily he got better as the evening wore on - not 100%, but better. I'm so happy that his immune system can fight this, I'm even more grateful that we have medicine we can give him and I'm even more grateful that he's up to date with his immunisations - I'd be a bag of worries otherwise.

Baby Proofing.

Before I begin let me just post this picture and draw on it's comparisons:

TWINS! 25 years apart. And well, not really twins as I'm his mother and he's my son...but you get the jist of it ;).

So... the other day B  'baby proofed' the living room. I was asleep at the time this happened because I was still recovering from the time he was sick - when he gets sick, I follow suit, but not because I contract whatever he has...my body can't cope with the sheer amount of energy that is required in looking after a toddler and a home full time. Yes, I'm aware many people do this parenting gig on their own and full time but I am also full time sick. And as such, that's my life and my set up. My body is like an elastic band - push it too far and it will break. 


Back to this baby proofing deal. Now, usually I'm sure a lot of people would be over joyed their spouse had been so ingenious as to baby proof their home. In fact they'd probably be downright shocked and/or impressed. 


Me? I'm a little startled by Bryan's methods.


Our problem is that Roman has a little problem with ownership - he thinks everything is his to destroy or throw to the floor to watch what happens to it. This really bugs me, even though I never let it show (first rule of parenting: don't show your kids your weak spots as they'll only exploit them at a later date.) So baby/toddler proofing was the next sensible and ultimately inevitable step...


For me I prepared by buying corner protectors and imaging things being in little neat boxes; tidy and organised, the opposite of my husband who works in a more haphazard fashion. I also have to tell you that this is the man who at 22 said we could "just keep the baby in the bath and throw a towel over them and then scoot them down when they pee or poo." This was his solution to not buying nappies - even though he is a disposable nappy advocate these days and I am very much a cloth advocate. 


So imagine, if you will, what his baby proofing might consist of and try to picture this scene:


I come into the living room and the insides of the book shelf have disappeared. 


No books, no blooming shelves. Nothing. 


Our bookshelf has been gutted. 


Okay, let's move on...this might get better. I also notice that everything that was under the coffee table is no longer there. I begin to panic. What's he done with it all? I notice that a suit case is blocking the entrance to one side of our corner unit sofa - Roman loves to go behind there and cause mischief. I look behind the suitcase and what do I see?


The contents of the bookshelf and coffee table. All lumped into one pile, looks like it's just been thrown into a heap. 


On the other end of the corner unit is a punch bag blocking that entrance. Roman runs up to, huffing and puffing and proceeds to smash his tiny fists on it as though he's attacking someone.


Bryan, what have you been teaching him while I sleep?

The 'guts' of the bookshelf have never been returned, they just lie dormant  in that same heap. And the shelves? They were completely out of view, tucked away nicely in Bryan's gym equipment cupboard.


Oh well...at least if they're out of sight, they're out of mind - right?


So I ask you, Ms/Mrs/Mr Reader: Do I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder or am I completely justified to feel trapped under the chaos?

When it is enough?

"The Lord doesn't expect us to work harder than we are able. He doesn't (nor should we) compare our efforts to those of others. Our Heavenly Father asks only that we do the best we can—that we work according to our full capacity, however great or small that may be."

— Dieter F. Uchtdorf

I think it's definitely something we all do at some point in our lives; compare and contrast with others. 


As I'm sick and housebound I know that comparing and contrasting can be as bad as catching a cold or a sickness bug; it takes hold of me, makes me feel a hundred times worse and leaves me very weak. 


I used to care a lot more about the things I didn't have and the things I couldn't do. These days? I still care, just not half as much. 


I used to be jealous of those with mortgages. But in all reality a mortgage is a bad thing for us right now; if something went horribly wrong there is noway we could juggle a mortgage and repairs. By the time my parents were my age, they had a home and a mortgage but were they any better of than I am right now? They sacrificed, scrimped, saved and went through a lot to keep their home. They endured trials I couldn't face right now and I don't have to face. Because I don't have a mortgage. It's a blessing, not a curse.


So what of comparing your abilities to others? Are you constantly at it like me? 


I'm 25 and barely make it out of my flat three times a month. Of course I am going to compare my life to others. I think even 90 year old's make it out of the door more than me. I used to constantly put pressure on myself to do everything and be everything. I just can't do it any more. I'm frail at 25 and I have to be okay with that because there is no cure to my illness.


There is another gnawing hope inside my heart. Knowing the sweetness of the blessing that children bring into your life I have been craving adding to my family but I know it's not going to happen. One child is probably our limit and I realise this is a personal thing to write about but I'm fed up and exhausted of being asked when we're having another baby (unless you're my Dad because that's allowed.) 


We're probably not going to have any more kids, just so you know, not that it was any of your business in the first place. My failing fertility - again feeling old inside my body - and pathetic state of health is making sure of that. I was very fortunate that I had Roman when I did. 


But I'll tell you something; I am happy. So happy beyond anything I could measure. And I am grateful for the life I have. Because every now and then something comes along and reminds me not to be sad and to realise just how much I am taking on and doing. I'm taking on a lot and half the time I'm not even sure how I'm doing it. All I know is that I pray and somehow Heavenly Father makes all the pieces of the puzzle fit. He reminds me daily that I am doing my full to capacity best.


 And that if I feel that's not enough, tough luck.  It is enough.

Flowers.

A few days ago I went outside.

This was a big deal to me because it's not something I do a lot of; going out.

I am mostly housebound with M.E. 

Before I knew I had M.E. I used to tell myself "just get on with it, pull yourself together, everyone else manages more than you."

But it's just not like that.

I wish it were that easy.

I have told myself these things and it hasn't worked for 25 years so far.

On my walk (littered with many stops for seats and catching my breath) I spotted these flowers. The same flowers that sprout up every spring and hold on until mid-autumn when they eventually wither and die. 

I haven't always been a fan of flowers but this time they just seemed so beautiful - it was as though last week there was snow on the ground and now these absolutely gorgeous flowers.

How can this be a coincidence?

This beauty.

I understand pollination. But that makes it all the more incredible.

Of course I am well aware that these flowers in question are planted by the council in order to 'pretty up' the park, but flowers, themselves - they are amazing!

Or am I thinking too deeply yet again?

(I used to cry in my teens thinking about technology we had and how other countries didn't have it.)

What do you think?

God's creation?

 Or a random series of events of evolution that lead to beauty?

Happy Kiss Day.

(Image: we♥it)

Happy Valentines Day.


Even though it was anything but romantic here. I spent my day (and it's not over yet at 11.55pm) with my baby boy - and he still wants to party. I've been awake since 8am. Please sleep baby!


 My big boy was in bed, sick.


I'm okay with that because every day is special here...yep, we're that couple. 


And well I don't have any other choice but to be okay with it ;).