Eating Humble Cheerios

Whew. Where to start?

Being sick is never fun. Having two bad piggyback illnesses, nursing a baby, caring for two children, and having a deployed husband isn’t fun at all.

Don’t ask me how I know.

I thought I should have been getting better from the virus I’d caught from Merritt. But the fact that my case of it was lasting longer than anyone else’s in my family had was causing me to wonder. The extreme fatigue was bowling me over and when I woke on Friday with signs of infection and a bad cough–symptoms totally unrelated to the virus I’d had–I knew something else had hit me. I was getting worse by the hour.

Several people told me on Friday I needed to call someone for help. Troy had been at my parents’ house when I’d been sick earlier in the week, which was wonderful during that time, but he’d come home when I thought I was getting better.

I was still fighting it. I didn’t want to admit I seriously needed help.

But then I reached a breaking point.

I’d run upstairs on Friday to put my hair in a pony tail, hoping to go to my neighbor’s house and see if she could watch the boys while I went to see the doctor. I walked back down the stairs and stopped short.

Before I went upstairs, I had left a box of Cheerios on the kitchen counter after giving a few broken up pieces to the baby. Troy had pulled the box down and done his best to give Merritt a few more.

A few more, as in, THE WHOLE ENTIRE BOX, peeps.

Merritt was sitting in his walker, completely covered in Cheerio dust and the rest of the little round pieces were spread all. over. the living room and dining room carpet.

And Troy was happily jumping on them. Singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star to the baby.

So. That was the first inkling I needed some help. Badly.

After dealing with Troy and cleaning up the mess, I ended up calling a friend from church who graciously watched the boys while I went to the base hospital.

By Saturday morning, I’d been to the “urgent care” on base and sure enough, all my hacking up a lung was due to a nasty, icky case of bronchitis. I kept telling myself that if I could just get a little rest, I’d be okay. The doctor and my mom were telling me that if I didn’t get some rest, and soon, I’d be in the hospital with pneumonia in real short order.

Honestly, I don’t remember the last time I was that sick. It’s been… a whole lotta years. My body was so incredibly worn down from the first bad virus I had and the continued nursing that I had virtually nothing left to fight this. On Friday night, I was literally crawling up the stairs on my hands and knees to get to bed. I was crying to Jesus for strength, but was still telling myself that if I could just sleep, I’d be fine in the morning.

Saturday morning came and I knew it would be pushing it to try to get rest with the two little kiddos. I was completely desperate. I was extremely weak and just couldn’t care for the boys. I could barely lift or hold them.

But as always, the Lord proved Himself so faithful. So faithful–despite my silly thinking I could do it all on my own. He provided strength in the form of people who love me. My mom was able to come out Saturday, and, thanks to some dear family friends who drove two-and-a-half hours out here also to help me for a few hours, she was even able to still make it to my brother’s fiddle competition this weekend. After the competition, my dad and brother drove out here and pitched in themselves. They’ve all been taking care of me, the boys, cooking, cleaning, going to the store, doing laundry.

Before John left, I assumed there would be some really hard times while he was gone. I wondered what those times would involve and how we’d get through them I tried to imagine the feeling of “hard.” Would it be hard emotionally? Would it be hard physically?

I didn’t realize sometimes it would be both. Neither did I realize that it would be so demanding on those close to us.

Thank you so much to those of you who read my mom’s blog and were praying. I appreciate it more than you know. This whole deployment thing definitely isn’t making for an easy time these days, but I’m so thankful for the support of so many of you who are carrying the load with us, either through direct help from those nearby, or prayer and encouragement from those farther away and those I don’t even know personally. You peeps are the greatest.

I can say I feel about 95% better. A little tired now and then still, but definitely myself again. Although, I was telling my mom earlier that it’s only now that I feel better I realize how just how very sick I really was.

But, hey, let me tell you this–there’s not much that can make a grown mother of two little boys feel better than resting her head on her own mama’s knee and feeling her mama’s fingers running through her hair. I’ll take that any day.