Tuesday, June 23, 2009

natural and logical...

My daughter is in bed, crying. I don't know whether to beat her, or cry, too.

I'm done. I'm done with PT and the freezing waiting room with its gale force air conditioning that gusts on my head no matter which freakin' place I sit, giving me an even bigger headache than my son crawling all over me, fighting inter-galactic battles in his full-voiced soprano. I'm done with the drive, with the interruption to every single day I'm off work, with the need to entertain my son at the constant cost of entertaining myself.

I'm done with talking about full range of motion and letters of medical necessity and random, made-up insurance limits that have nothing to do with our actual needs. I'm done with the whining--about the splint, about the exercises, about the appointments. I'm done with fighting with her--about the splint, about the exercises, about the appointments. I'm done caring about her stupid arm. And I'm done paying for it, in more ways than one.

Whose consequence was this, anyway?!?!

And so, tonight, there are tears, this time because she didn't do all her exercises today at her Grandmother's (despite our discussion about it this morning... and last night... and yesterday at PT...) which meant Poppa had to pull on her arm for 20 minutes instead of five. Again, whose consequence should this be? Why is it constantly mine?

And so I sit here, torn between feeling like the worst mother in the world because I allowed her to feel the consequence of my anger and frustration, which translates into "I allowed myself to get angry in front of her about this flippin' ordeal for ONCE," and feeling completely justified in my anger, if not in my lengthy format for expressing it. She is not alone in this. She took us all with her down that damn tube, and me more so than the rest. I am trying to let that go, but it is a daily battle. A raging, bloody, ugly battle. Some days I overcome. Today...

"I love you more than you'll ever know," Lifehouse sings over my new Switchfoot station on pandora.com, "and a part of me died when I let you go." I die a millions deaths with this child. Each one harder than the last. I am weary of this process.

Apparently crying is the option I choose tonight as well, though I don't recall the point at which I chose it. But the tears are there, nonetheless, and I do not think I can bear them much longer. Hers are enough.

I am done.


cj said...

My mother once told me when Violet wouldn't sleep through the night and I cried and cried because I was so exhausted from sleep deprivation, "You've got a lifetime of hurt ahead of you with that child." She didn't mean this in a mean way, but basically that, yep your now a mom.

Violet finally slept through the night at 2 years 4 months and 13 days.

Love you.

Kaleidoscope said...

Myohmy, Mom! I love your transparency, your palpable honesty. I love your ability to put unspeakable thoughts and emotions into concrete words. God loves it too... loves you, too.

Anonymous said...

I feel for you. I would be WAY over it at this point as well. And it's hard because she can't really process the idea that when she's 30 she's not going to want to have to deal with the leftovers of not having fully recovered.

Sounds sucky, but as long as no new bones are broken, it'll be alright. :-)

jane said...

Imagine how God feels when we behave in this manner !!! It puts it in a different perspective for me.

krista said...

31 days....31 painfully quiet days....
I WILL keep holding my breath.