Bella woke up this morning with a fever and telling me, “I need to throw up…”
So right now she’s on the couch next to me, sleeping and buried in the covers, as I write. Her little hands are cupping her own face, I can’t think of anything cuter.
We’ve had some hard weeks with her lately. She’s developed this aversion to any type of interruption – even if it’s to do something she likes. But the biggest drama happens in the morning and at night when she has to get ready for the day or bed. Tears, whining, sobs, tantrums – you name it. We’ve tried everything under the sun to get her to just pull through and so far – not much is working. We have a “Magic Poof” jar that she adds cotton balls to when she makes a good choice. When it’s full, she gets whatever treat she picked at the start. She’s earned an evening with us, a stuffed dragon, a new book – but that jar is filling up slower as the weeks past.
She’s still in play therapy each week, although we switched therapists in August. I know it may seem a bit much to have her in this long, but it truly does help her to process all we’ve been and are still going through. It also helps me to know what to work with her on and what’s just a normal phase. Nothing about our life is really “normal” and the reassurance of a professional eases my mom guilt a lot.
I feel a little lost as a mama. While all of my friends are finishing up having kids or entering the second, third, fourth round of babies; I’m watching each stage pass and wonder if I’ll ever experience it again. When everyone else’s life revolves around diapers and dishes on repeat, mine seems to be off from the rest. They’re learning to accept that they’ll have sleepless nights and talk about poop once again for the next 2 years. I’m wondering what happens next when it’s not another baby?
It’s really a very strange feeling to be on the outskirts of that life.
We could try again. We certainly could. There are precautions we could take. But no guarantees. And even though the thought of it makes my heart yearn a little, then I think of how sick I am during pregnancy, how this past pregnancy was so, so hard on me physically, and how anything could trigger the CIHHV-6 again – and I can’t even fathom going through it all without knowing the odds were truly in my favor.
I feel this constant tug to find a niche outside of the thought of repeat motherhood. I have to remind myself how I don’t want to just jump from thing to thing because I’m not really sure where I fit in. But it’s so hard not to do that when I am constantly facing everyone else’s life changes with another baby. I want to have something to look forward to like that too – and when I don’t it’s hard to sit by quietly.
Bella grows more independent and I find myself wondering what’s next for me – praying so hard it’s something good and beautiful and a lasts enough for me to get my feet under me again. I love her, I am looking forward to her growing up while I get to be her mama. Outside of that, I just don’t know yet.
This is a hard phase to be in life.