I'm not sure where to begin, except right where we left off. Sick Sunday.
Now it's Monday.
A bomb went off in our house last week, starting immediately after my last post. Or I guess you could say, it had already gone off, we just didn't know it yet. It was in the doctor's pronunciation as Aquaman sat pathetically breathing in his first nebulizer treatment. Flu A.
To sum it up, none of us were spared, though I had it the mildest, with temp maxing out at 100 and only a few days of pure exhaustion, body, and headaches.
There was one trip to urgent care for Aquaman, and a trip to the emergency room for JT since he decided he should work when they told him he would need a doctor's note to go home...and then ended up with a headache so bad he couldn't stop throwing up.
We've been to the pediatrician's office twice...in one day. Both times were just routine follow-ups, but both ended in the diagnosis of ear infection for the oldest and youngest.
The youngest seemed to have avoided the flu altogether until the day after his ear infection diagnosis, Valentine's Day in fact, when it became abundantly clear that it was his turn.
Which means another week of no work for me. Well, no nursing other peoples' kids at least...
And another trip back to the doctor again, though not for the baby yet, who so far just has a stuffy nose and high fevers, but for The Dude, who has the same bronchospastic cough and wheeze that landed him on prednisone 2 months ago.
Last night was a long night, yet another one, something I am becoming used to. 2 back to back albuterol treatments, and wondering if we'll be racing out into the night for emergency care. Clutching the feverish baby close and thanking God that he was strong and healthy before this illness took hold, and thinking of all the babies, mothers close beside them, with heart disease and down syndrome, whose mothers did not have that same reassurance. And knowing that their babies and both of mine were in the hands of the same big and loving God and that it was ok to rest for a few minutes between the coughs and fevers.
This was supposed to be a very special weekend for our family. JT and I were going to celebrate Valentines day with a trip to the spa together. He had taken 4 days off in a row, after a season of working often 12 days without one day off.
Instead, today he goes back to work more exhausted than he left it, having stumbled together through what was definitely the sickest week in our family's history, and hopefully the sickest week we ever have.
And I will sort through the rubble, and note the life peeking back through.
I'll nurse a little and then some more, and turn on another episode of sesame street, and try to remember what it was like to feel normal again, and thank God for the sick times as much as for the well, for they are all from Him.
"He gives power to the faint and weary, and to him who has no might, He increases strength."
Valentine's day wasn't what we'd planned for it to be this year. In the morning I woke up and stumbled through making pancakes with strawberries for the boys. I coughed so hard while I made them that I almost threw up. I was too tired to cut them into heart shapes, and the boys ate them sitting on the kitchen floor.
Then I took a shower, thinking that would make me feel better, but all it did was make me so tired that I had to lay down.
After my nap we dragged our tired bodies to the park and went through the motions of swinging on the swings and sliding down the slides, and wandered down the pier to look at the boats.
As a family we went to Doubles and ate smoothies, and I realized I was starting to feel better when the food actually tasted good.
But when JT's parents graciously offered to keep the boys so that JT and I could have a Valentine's date, the thought just seemed kind of exhausting. Going and sitting somewhere and coughing at each other seemed like more work than it was worth.
So we looked at the movies, but none of those seemed any good. Until we discovered that the 3rd Hunger Games movie, which we missed when it came out in theaters a few months ago, was out at the discount theater.
It wasn't done quite as well as the others, I don't think, but we still had a great time, and it was the perfect sick Valentine's night activity.
I just finished reading the books, which I suppose is a little adolescent of me, and what's even more adolescent of me? I cried at the end.
"On the night I feel that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach, I know this would have happened anyway. That what I need to survive is not Gale's fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion in spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that."
"What I need is the dandelion in spring."
That was the part that got me. Because JT is my dandelion in the spring. That always points me back to Jesus, the bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. Hope, springing up in the meadow.
There is so much destruction today. And there is so much hope springing up around us. And I am nothing but thankful. For the man coughing beside me, and the Savior who holds all of us carefully in His arms. Numbering all the hairs on our heads, capturing all the tears that fall in the night, watching every sparrow that falls, and whispering into our hearts the promise- life goes on today.