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>On pity-parties…

January 27, 2010


So, class, let’s see how much Adelle has learned, shall we?

I wrote this in August of 2007 (on the other blog that I was too chicken for anyone else to read). Scrappy was two months old at the time. Re-reading it, I kind of feel like I’m back there again, just in a different way. Same pity-party, different dress. Maybe what I’m supposed to get out of all this is that I will get through this (again), and that it’s ok to ask for help.

This also could be a nice opener for an essay on (not) being perfect.

This post was called “Lessons Learned”

Bahaha!!!!! Ok, maybe the second time’s the charm.

so, Gabe had surgery yesterday. we only found out it was happening the day before. we knew this was coming (just didn’t know when), and that it was necessary, but it didn’t give us time to prepare. imagine my reaction – i’m barely scraping enough (cumulative – never mind consecutive) sleep at night to survive. i have a colicky baby. and i was just informed my husband and greatest help would be wearing a sling for three weeks and unable to help me. at all. can’t pick up the baby. can’t empty the dishwasher. can’t take out the trash. can’t lift the carseat. can’t fold laundry.

i spent the rest of the day in a bit of a rage. i know he needs the procedure. it just feels very unfair that it’s happening at such a chaotic time in our lives. but when would be better? after i return to work and have even less time, and no vacation saved up? there is no easy answer.

you also should know – i don’t like asking for help. i feel like i should be able to do this on my own – i mean, tons of women do, right? lots of people have two kids, and not only survive, but thrive, right? they deal with the colic and keep their houses clean. they do it with a smile on their face – don’t they? so why should i deserve assistance? in picking up and dropping off, feeding my family, and playing on the floor with Scooby. i don’t deserve that kind of special treatment. i can’t repay it. when it’s offered, i usually turn it down.

and as i stood in my grubby kitchen in tears, wearing a fussing baby in a sling on my chest, feeling very angry at God and the entire situation…i had a God-moment. i swear. He whispered to me just then.

“it’s a lot like My love, isn’t it? you don’t deserve it. you can’t pay it back. you just have to take it – and be grateful. it’s ok. just do it. “

so, i stood there in shock for a moment, then i picked up the phone. and within minutes, angels of mercy literally swooped in and had care arranged for the wee, colicky one, rides and dinner for the bigger one, and the time needed to be with my biggest boy when he woke up.

one truly blessed friend even thought to bring us coffee as we rushed out early to get to the hospital. that coffee was a life-line.

just after we when we returned home later that day, dinner arrived on our doorstep.

“I sustain myself with the love of friends.” Maya Angelou

humbled and grateful, i realize the wisdom of these words and will try to remember that when our friends are loving me (us) it’s coming straight from the greatest Friend of all.

and i will accept it. gratefully.

Just ’cause every post deserves a little illustration. This was taken just before I wrote the above post. I call this photo “Utter Exhaustion”. I remember when it was taken that I was too tired to smile. Scrappy, born under 6 lbs, when he wasn’t eating he was crying. He didn’t sleep soundly (ever) until he was almost 3 months old when we got his painful reflex medicated, and didn’t sleep through the night for almost 6. But we survived, didn’t we? Now he’s the biggest two year old on the playground, charming as all get out, and healthy as the proverbial horse.

One Comment leave one →
  1. January 28, 2010 7:35 pm

    >I remember that day. I remember loving you a lot that day, and feeling grateful to be your friend. On a serious note, somehow when reading this post I completely skipped the first paragraph so the first thing I read was "Gabe had surgery yesterday." Waaaaaaaaahhhhhhttttttt? Then I figured it out. You were about to get a very panicked phone call, missy! Between that and my smoking house, I'm having a bang-up day!

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