Along with trying to sell a house and entertain visitors and everything else in life, it seems like we’ve spent a ton of time doing the doctor thing lately. For some reason everything seemed to hit at once — routine check-ups and shots for the boys, dentist appointments, check-ups for me, follow-up appointments with surgeons, and speech therapy scheduled for Nolan. And that has just been the last two weeks.
As I type my baby Nolan is laying on my lap recovering from an outpatient surgery earlier today. Two weeks ago he was diagnosed with a hernia in his groin. It was really minor but still needed to be fixed with surgery. Somehow I’ve managed to keep my wits about me and not freak out about the whole thing, but this morning was tough.
It’s tough to see your baby poked, prodded, and drugged. It’s tough to see him slathered in antibacterial liquids and sterilized. It’s tough to let him leave and just walk into a waiting room without him. It’s tough to see the Doctor for the first time after the surgery and have your heart leap in your throat — was everything okay? And this was for a MINOR surgery. Everything was fine and there wasn’t even a small possibility that we were going to find out something was worse than we expected. I have a friend who’s son just completed his first year with cancer. A son who is 3 months younger than my Parker. She has spent the majority of days this past year in the hospital with her guy, facing things infinitely harder than my little morning at surgery center. All of a sudden I feel like maybe I can grasp a small corner of the difficulty of the year. And that’s just the practical stuff, not the emotional turmoil of the unknowns.
Pre-op playtime with my little man in his scrubs.
Sweet boy finds places to play anywhere.
He crawled under the hospital crib and found a fun hiding place.
At home post-op getting some much needed sleep.
I think he knew how much I needed to hold him today.
He hasn’t slept on me in almost a year!
And then there’s me. My body hates being pregnant. Not in a dire, I’m-on-bedrest-kind of way. Just a really inconvenient kind-of-feel-like-I’m-constantly-falling-apart-kind-of-way. I’m taking my Glucose Tolerance Test tomorrow (the big 3-hr one), and we’ll see if Gestational Diabetes is going to be part of my life for the next three months. I have terrible pregnancy insomnia and after trying every natural remedy known to me or my doctor, I’m going to start taking some sleep aids in this next week. Sleep deprivation is real folks. 2-3 hours a night for months is just not cutting it. Even without the extra diabetes or sleep stuff, there’s plenty of doctor appointments for normal pregnancy things. You know, ultrasounds, chiropractor visits for my aching hips/lower back, check-up, etc.
But really, things are good. I’ve been focusing the majority of my attention on the crammed calendar, but I’ve found time to be thankful. To realize that although the house stuff and constant showings are stressful, we have a wonderful place to live and whatever happens we aren’t going to be homeless or in a dire situation. Even when I feel like I’m at the doctor more than at home, we are all basically healthy. Even when I hate being pregnant and can’t seem to find enough energy for the day, I’m so thankful for this baby girl and that she’s growing healthy and strong inside my uncomfortable body. And even though I would rather use natural solutions to problems, the medical community and insurance we have at our disposal has been awesome and is truly something to be grateful for. Long weeks full of long scheduled days — but we are still abundantly blessed.