Thar be Dragons There
Inside of me, there is a deep and dark fear that I will lose my children. To sickness or accident or to my own carelessness or to someone else’s. I guess maybe for most moms that fear is not quite so deep. But for me I’ve held it deep and far away because I cannot handle the idea of it actually happening. The thought of it makes me want to curl up in a ball and disappear. I’ve always said that whatever the situation, I would figure out how to get through it and go on living life to the best of my ability. But I am not at all confident that I could just move on and get through losing a child. That’s why I’ve so vigilantly kept it buried deep where it couldn’t get at me.
But it surged to the surface this past Friday. My daughter got a quarter stuck in her esophagus. And a pediatric surgeon had to remove it via a surgical procedure. During which I was not allowed to stay in there with my screaming, choking baby girl. During which one of the nurses started screaming “Oh shit! Oh shit, she’s not breathing!” During which I alternately felt like I wanted to sit down in the hall outside the procedure room and give up and feeling like I could claw my way through the heavy wood door to get to her, to save her where this incompetent and insolent surgeon could not.
About 3 minutes after that declaration, they opened the door and handed her to me. Completely traumatized, covered in tears and snot and terror and I held her so tightly I was sure I would damage. While said arrogant surgeon made jokes about saving the quarter for our baby book to my husband. I wanted to thank him for saving our girl and then I wanted to punch him right in the nose so that he could remember for just a minute that he was actually human too.
I took her back to her room and nursed her immediately and she fell asleep almost as quickly. I just stared at her for about an hour until they discharged us. That night it took me forever to fall asleep because all I could hear when I closed my eyes was the “She’s not breathing!” part. So I retreated into a weepy chick flick and a fantasy book with the hope that I could just forget it since she was fine and healthy once again, sleeping soundly in her crib.
But I can’t quite get rid of it. Even now, 4 days later. It’s still with me and part of me is glad for it, because I don’t want to forget how fragile we all are and how vigilant I have to be as a mother. But part of me wants to bury that fear down deep again. Because it has a crippling effect, this fear. And I can’t live my life crippled in this way.
At the same time, this experience has really shown me how utterly and completely burnt out I am. I am just so very tired of everything. I’m tired of being a mom. I’m tired of working. I’m tired of taking care of the house. I’m tired of giving my all everyday and giving so much of myself to everyone I love and care about. I’m just tired. But I wouldn’t choose to live my life any other way. I just need a break. Some time to re-group and re-energize. And I don’t know how to do that. And it’s becoming clear that the hour here at the gym or the two hours there with friends for dinner is only serving to stave off the madness. That is what it feels like just under my surface. Utter and complete madness. Like I am going to scream at any time. Without warning and then it will be clear just how utterly crazy I’ve gone.
I’m taking all the action I can possibly muster in my life right now. I’m making changes to several integral parts of my life so that they become supportive and nurturing instead of energy sucking. I’m committing to regaining my physical healthy and feeling comfortable in my own skin again. I’m focusing on each task as it comes; when I am working, I am really working. When I am with my kids, I am really with my kids. But the madness is still there and getting louder all the time.
This brush with fear caused me to stop and take myself out of all my good intentions and changes for a day or two. And I’m realizing that the changes and the effort I’m making to lessen the madness have only served to bring my attention to how deeply the madness goes. How much work I have to do.
Maybe this kind of madness in endemic to being a mother. Perhaps the fear and the madness are tied to each other somehow. That motherhood ties them together as a coping mechanism of sorts. They keep each other in check so that we can actually have some semblance of functionality on a day to day basis. But if one rises then the other follows suit and we’re done for. That’s what I feel like right now. Done for. Like there is no end to the madness and there never will be and I better set to just sucking it up and getting over it.
Because the other option is to deal with it. And that is uncharted territory. Thar be dragons there. And I’m not feeling equipped to deal with dragons presently. Perhaps I’ll just stick to making it through the day first.
But it surged to the surface this past Friday. My daughter got a quarter stuck in her esophagus. And a pediatric surgeon had to remove it via a surgical procedure. During which I was not allowed to stay in there with my screaming, choking baby girl. During which one of the nurses started screaming “Oh shit! Oh shit, she’s not breathing!” During which I alternately felt like I wanted to sit down in the hall outside the procedure room and give up and feeling like I could claw my way through the heavy wood door to get to her, to save her where this incompetent and insolent surgeon could not.
About 3 minutes after that declaration, they opened the door and handed her to me. Completely traumatized, covered in tears and snot and terror and I held her so tightly I was sure I would damage. While said arrogant surgeon made jokes about saving the quarter for our baby book to my husband. I wanted to thank him for saving our girl and then I wanted to punch him right in the nose so that he could remember for just a minute that he was actually human too.
I took her back to her room and nursed her immediately and she fell asleep almost as quickly. I just stared at her for about an hour until they discharged us. That night it took me forever to fall asleep because all I could hear when I closed my eyes was the “She’s not breathing!” part. So I retreated into a weepy chick flick and a fantasy book with the hope that I could just forget it since she was fine and healthy once again, sleeping soundly in her crib.
But I can’t quite get rid of it. Even now, 4 days later. It’s still with me and part of me is glad for it, because I don’t want to forget how fragile we all are and how vigilant I have to be as a mother. But part of me wants to bury that fear down deep again. Because it has a crippling effect, this fear. And I can’t live my life crippled in this way.
At the same time, this experience has really shown me how utterly and completely burnt out I am. I am just so very tired of everything. I’m tired of being a mom. I’m tired of working. I’m tired of taking care of the house. I’m tired of giving my all everyday and giving so much of myself to everyone I love and care about. I’m just tired. But I wouldn’t choose to live my life any other way. I just need a break. Some time to re-group and re-energize. And I don’t know how to do that. And it’s becoming clear that the hour here at the gym or the two hours there with friends for dinner is only serving to stave off the madness. That is what it feels like just under my surface. Utter and complete madness. Like I am going to scream at any time. Without warning and then it will be clear just how utterly crazy I’ve gone.
I’m taking all the action I can possibly muster in my life right now. I’m making changes to several integral parts of my life so that they become supportive and nurturing instead of energy sucking. I’m committing to regaining my physical healthy and feeling comfortable in my own skin again. I’m focusing on each task as it comes; when I am working, I am really working. When I am with my kids, I am really with my kids. But the madness is still there and getting louder all the time.
This brush with fear caused me to stop and take myself out of all my good intentions and changes for a day or two. And I’m realizing that the changes and the effort I’m making to lessen the madness have only served to bring my attention to how deeply the madness goes. How much work I have to do.
Maybe this kind of madness in endemic to being a mother. Perhaps the fear and the madness are tied to each other somehow. That motherhood ties them together as a coping mechanism of sorts. They keep each other in check so that we can actually have some semblance of functionality on a day to day basis. But if one rises then the other follows suit and we’re done for. That’s what I feel like right now. Done for. Like there is no end to the madness and there never will be and I better set to just sucking it up and getting over it.
Because the other option is to deal with it. And that is uncharted territory. Thar be dragons there. And I’m not feeling equipped to deal with dragons presently. Perhaps I’ll just stick to making it through the day first.
posted by at 8:01 AM
1 Comments:
Being scared means you're human. It's a good thing and it proves how precious life is and your children are. If you weren't scared by Friday, *then* I'd be worried.
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