Fallout

I’m not at all sure what to say about what happened two weekends ago. But I do know this: I have learned a lot about my son, and I’m trying to learn how to parent him. In my defense, much of what has gone on in the last month or so has been completely out of my control. I had to give birth to the baby in my belly. I had to go back to work. He had to start preschool. We did not find out until a few days before that we were moving the same day that Matt’s family was coming down to visit—a trip they had planned and paid for months ago. It was way too much change for a three-year-old, and it all came down to one weekend.

The move is a good thing. We no longer have to deal with a staircase, and we have a big backyard. So that’s good.

The visit with our family went as well as it could have. We stayed in a hotel Saturday night, which was actually kind of nice after a day of moving. The only trouble was that we were only about half-way done moving by the time we had to leave. And Ben and Emma went to E’s nanny’s house while we moved. Ben doesn’t know her very well, so it was kind of rough for him. He was in poor shape when I dropped him off. When I picked them up he fell asleep in the car on the way home, but basically skipped his nap. Which meant trouble when evening came. That’s when things went downhill. We really wanted to enjoy the evening with our family, but Ben was slowly falling apart. He refused to eat dinner, and instead curled up in my arms and asked every couple of minutes if we could leave yet. Emma was losing it because she’d had a long, sleepless day herself. We left early to go back to the hotel to sleep. Then the next day we dragged ourselves to Disneyland. We had a nice breakfast in the hotel, first, though. The biggest bonus? They had a beautiful garden area, and Ben smiled for a good 20 minutes. So we got the elusive family photo op that we’d been trying for for weeks. Then we went to Disneyland.

Things started off okay, but not great. Ben tethered himself to me for the majority of the day. He had to be physically touching me as much as possible. He had up moments, for sure. Every now and then he’d perk up and show signs of life. But those moments would be brief, and he’d sink back into his sad little shell. It was heart-breaking. Mid-afternoon we decided we could not torture him anymore, and we went home, many hours earlier than we were intending, to a half-moved home. (Funny story sidenote: As we arrived at the park, Emma had an enormous blowout. Poop from her neck to her ankles. Also: because we packed in such a hurry in our half-moved house, we forgot a great many things. Like diapers. So…just in case you were wondering, the Sheraton Park Anaheim does not sell size 1 or 2 diapers (only 3-5). But Disneyland does at 2 for a dollar. Thankfully I had wipes and a change of clothes, so she got a wipe sponge-bath and a new outfit. Although I was tempted to wash her in that weird sink thing in the Baby Care Center, which I’ve always wondered about—my friend and I swore it looks like some kind of baby bidet—but I finally just asked, and it turns out it’s a special sink, I forget the name, for washing cloth diapers.)

The next few days are kind of a blur. We tried to move the rest of our house piecemeal while we weren’t at work. Monday evening our family came and joined us for dinner before flying out. Ben curled up in a ball in the booth for most of the time, refusing to eat or speak. Towards the end of the meal he was sobbing, saying his stomach hurt, and walking all doubled over. So, once again, we tearfully said good-bye and sorry to our family and took our screaming baby and sobbing boy home. Both were asleep by 7:00. Matt and I took a break from moving and tried to have some downtime. Ben stayed home Tuesday with my mom, and he pooped four times. The poor boy hadn’t pooped all weekend. No wonder he felt so ill. The next few days he slowly got worse and worse. We took turns staying home with him, wondering what we could have done differently, desperately trying to fix him, and all the while trying to finish moving our things. Friday night he spiked a fever, and Saturday morning we took him to Urgent Care. We went home with antibiotics for his pneumonia.

My mom graciously stayed home with him again Monday. That night was horrible. He refused to take his medication, and spit it out if we tried to force it. His cough goes in and out, and his lethargy comes and goes. Twice he peed himself while laying on the couch, and he barely registered it. Tuesday morning I left him with my mom again and went to work, only to get a text on my way that he once again spit out his meds and was refusing to eat or drink or get off the couch. So I tearfully told my assistant principal that I needed to go home. A sub came, and I went home. A couple of hours later Emma’s nanny called and said she was starting to act ill. Perfect.

We spent a few hours at Kaiser with a couple of doctors and the radiologist. There are few things in this world I hate more than x-rays with my kids. So so sad. We didn’t get a lot of answers. His pneumonia didn’t seem to be getting better, although we couldn’t tell why. But after we got home that evening he played and laughed and ate and drank. All very good things. Matt stayed home with him yesterday, and he was almost back to himself. This morning I took him to preschool. They had to pry him off of me. This afternoon I took him in for a re-check (and took Emma to be checked, since she’s got a nasty cough). Both kids sounded free and clear. The pneumonia is gone.

We are not strangers to crazy fevers and dramatic illnesses with Little B. And you’d think that after 3 1/2 years I would have some thicker skin. But still I fall apart inside. It breaks my heart to see him like this. This last month has been so hard for him, and it just kills me. We have tried time and time again to salvage the holidays, but we keep being thwarted. Our house is still a disaster, and it’s only half decorated. If we want Ben to leave the house we have to drag him kicking and screaming, which means we haven’t really been able to do so many things that we enjoy doing to make this time of year special. And maybe I just have to be okay with that. Maybe we miss all our traditions this year, and I just need to accept it. Maybe I need to let it go and focus on helping Ben heal, physically and emotionally. I don’t know. But this month or so; this month or so has been hard.

Christmas Break starts at 2:51pm tomorrow. I am ready. Ready to rest, enjoy a healthy family, and celebrate my faith.