Written a while ago, but lost track of time and forgot to post it...
This week didn't start out like other weeks. Nope, instead it began with me not being able to wake my sick Husband, despite all my efforts of poking, prodding, and letting Gracie jump all over him. He resisted all our methods and remained a sweaty, clammy unconscious mess of a man. He had been up late the night before complaining of a swollen and sore throat, asking for an icepack and pain relief, but by the time I took his temperature the following day it had soared to a whopping 42 degrees Celsius. I stripped back the sheets, heaved him upright to swallow some paracetamol and called the National Home Doctor Service. Thankfully they arrived within 30 minutes and confirmed what I had suspected, Hubby had acute tonsillitis and was septic. He wrote us a script for an antibiotic, but at Hubby's inability to swallow instructed us to go to the emergency department immediately instead. He was admitted straight away, doctors began a gamete of tests, and he was administered triple antibiotics, a steroid and pain relief. And so began our week...
This week didn't start out like other weeks. Nope, instead it began with me not being able to wake my sick Husband, despite all my efforts of poking, prodding, and letting Gracie jump all over him. He resisted all our methods and remained a sweaty, clammy unconscious mess of a man. He had been up late the night before complaining of a swollen and sore throat, asking for an icepack and pain relief, but by the time I took his temperature the following day it had soared to a whopping 42 degrees Celsius. I stripped back the sheets, heaved him upright to swallow some paracetamol and called the National Home Doctor Service. Thankfully they arrived within 30 minutes and confirmed what I had suspected, Hubby had acute tonsillitis and was septic. He wrote us a script for an antibiotic, but at Hubby's inability to swallow instructed us to go to the emergency department immediately instead. He was admitted straight away, doctors began a gamete of tests, and he was administered triple antibiotics, a steroid and pain relief. And so began our week...
Luckily for me, Gracie's Grandma was able to come as soon as I called, so that I didn't have to drag her into the hospital with her sick Daddy. I arrived home late that evening to find Gracie happy, if not tired from lack of a day nap, fed and waiting for her bath and bedtime routine to begin. Dinner was also waiting for me on the stove. Man, I love Grandma.
Let's just say that Gracie and I missed Hubby a whole bunch. Our house just operates smoother when he's around. Gracie sleeps better, she's less irritable, I don't tire out as quickly and I bounce my anxiety off his calm. Our days just seem less chaotic. In the four nights that Hubby had to stay in the hospital Gracie fought bed time and routine with 100% enthusiasm. It became easier to give into her moods and let her fall asleep in our bed at whatever time exhaustion finally overcame her, and stay there overnight. I slept very little; worried about Hubby in the hospital with an arm full of IV lines, unable to talk due to the giant, infected tonsils causing him so much grief. As the week dragged I found myself feeling overwhelmed by the huge change in a regular lives. Gracie was testing every last inch of my patience, while I did my best to look calm and collected for Hubby during our daily visits so that he wouldn't worry.
The thing with my anxiety is that I can feel it creeping up on me, slow and heavy. I feel it and then I do my best to push it away and get on with life. But I also know that if I don't deal with it head on the creeping becomes a stampede of chest-tightening, mind-spinning feelings that make me lash out in order to try and feel better. Unfortunately for him, Hubby usually gets to be on the receiving end of the tantrum, but I knew this time I couldn't let it get that far, I couldn't let myself cross the line.
There's a calming song Hubby and I sing to Gracie when she's getting worked up or over-tired, "Calm, calm, calm Gracie Girl. Calm, calm, calm..." Within minutes you can feel her little body relax into your own, her breathing slow to normal and her crying ease into a tiny whimper. As I lay restless in bed one night I found myself singing Gracie's song to myself, all the while praying to God for patience.
Ever since that night I have kept that thought and prayer in my mind. Love is patient. My life is surrounded by love. My Husband, my gorgeous Gracie. They are my life and my love. For whatever reason sometimes I feel overwhelmed, but that should never dictate my actions towards the people I love. And it should never subtract from the great joy that my life brings to me. Love is patient. Gracie and Hubby deserve my patience more than any other people in the world.
Let's just say that Gracie and I missed Hubby a whole bunch. Our house just operates smoother when he's around. Gracie sleeps better, she's less irritable, I don't tire out as quickly and I bounce my anxiety off his calm. Our days just seem less chaotic. In the four nights that Hubby had to stay in the hospital Gracie fought bed time and routine with 100% enthusiasm. It became easier to give into her moods and let her fall asleep in our bed at whatever time exhaustion finally overcame her, and stay there overnight. I slept very little; worried about Hubby in the hospital with an arm full of IV lines, unable to talk due to the giant, infected tonsils causing him so much grief. As the week dragged I found myself feeling overwhelmed by the huge change in a regular lives. Gracie was testing every last inch of my patience, while I did my best to look calm and collected for Hubby during our daily visits so that he wouldn't worry.
The thing with my anxiety is that I can feel it creeping up on me, slow and heavy. I feel it and then I do my best to push it away and get on with life. But I also know that if I don't deal with it head on the creeping becomes a stampede of chest-tightening, mind-spinning feelings that make me lash out in order to try and feel better. Unfortunately for him, Hubby usually gets to be on the receiving end of the tantrum, but I knew this time I couldn't let it get that far, I couldn't let myself cross the line.
There's a calming song Hubby and I sing to Gracie when she's getting worked up or over-tired, "Calm, calm, calm Gracie Girl. Calm, calm, calm..." Within minutes you can feel her little body relax into your own, her breathing slow to normal and her crying ease into a tiny whimper. As I lay restless in bed one night I found myself singing Gracie's song to myself, all the while praying to God for patience.
Ever since that night I have kept that thought and prayer in my mind. Love is patient. My life is surrounded by love. My Husband, my gorgeous Gracie. They are my life and my love. For whatever reason sometimes I feel overwhelmed, but that should never dictate my actions towards the people I love. And it should never subtract from the great joy that my life brings to me. Love is patient. Gracie and Hubby deserve my patience more than any other people in the world.
