When Mama doesn't feel so good.

I'm sitting at my computer because our couch is terribly uncomfortable and my back hurts from laying down for almost 24 hours straight.  Declan is watching Little Einsteins and I can't Disney Junior one.more.minute.

I have to say... I am sick of being sick.  There is always a little part of me that finds some relief in being "allowed" to just rest, but really?  I'm not a fan.

I was "lazy" for years.  What is that they say about being lazy.. it's not lazy if you are sick?  Well I had Lyme Disease/ Fibromyalgia struggles for years and years.  Before I knew what it was, I was considered lazy.  After I knew what it was... I felt lazy.  

For much of my adult life I had a choice on what to do with the little energy I had.  I could either do something productive like work, clean, grocery shop or... something I preferred, go for a walk, be outside, and enjoy those little bits of energy. On days where we would go to an amusement park, sea world, anywhere that you just walk and walk and walk... I would be pumped you know, get a bit of a high from the fun of it all.  Then?  The ride home?  Was I the one driving?  No way.  I was sleeping.  6+ hours in the sun, walk walk walking?  I was done.

My health status is complicated.  There are no absolutes for me.  I was diagnosed with Lyme Disease at age 23 but it was presumed I had it for 10+ years.  We're talking sick since elementary school.  The details are all a blur.  Have I mentioned my memory is more than a bit fuzzy?  I have seen Momastery mention Lyme Brain, well I forget what she called it but.. it made me cry.  Because I deal with that every stinkin day, and I have for years.  When I was 18 I cried and tried to convince my mom and my boyfriend at the time, that I had some kind of Alzheimer's.  Seriously.  That is how difficult I found it to get my brain to function normally.  I couldn't remember the simplest things.  Where I put my keys, what my schedule was, what day it was, what word I wanted to use when speaking, what school assignments were due and when, etc.  It was so confusing and scary because it felt like there was a hole in my mind and things kept disappearing into it.

Then I got sick... really sick.  I tried some different medications for the Fibromyalgia (I was diagnosed with that at 18 or 19) then got sick from those medications (thus my - medication? no thank you! stance at this point.)  I was put on sooo many different things.  There was one that made me gain weight, like I was bloated... and the one that gave me the munchies... fun times.  I gained 40 lbs over that period, It was awful.  I didn't mind so much at the time because the pain had felt intense and I just couldn't handle it anymore. For years I felt angry with myself for not caring, for being so desperate.  I felt angry with my doctors for not seeing what was really going on.  I am not a fan of any doctor who will evaluate a patient for 15 minutes and then give them medication.  THAT is lazy.

Anyway this wasn't supposed to become a rant on how much I dislike lazy doctors or medication.  It's just a part of my story.  Unfortunately "not feeling good" has been a huge part of who I am.  So on sick days... like yesterday and today, when I literally just could not do it - I try to take a step back and evaluate my life as a whole.

Sure there were years (and years) of pain and medicated delirium, but after 3 years of hardcore antibiotics and learning about nutrition from an amazing but kooky doctor (who would spend an hour with me at every visit, answering every single question) I am... better.  I am not healed.  I don't think there is such a thing as healed for my condition, but I'm better.  I'm no longer empty, I can spend energy and I retain it and gain more.  That is how I know things are better.

It was scary, becoming a mom.  There were moments when I wasn't sure I could do it, pull off the mom gig. Be "on" 100% of the time.  And the truth is, I'm not.  My husband takes over a good percentage of the time when he gets home from work.  Sometimes I lay down when he gives D a bath.  And often when D wakes up at night, Caleb is the one who tends to his needs.  Often, not always.  He knows I need my sleep.  I feel the Fibromyalgia creeping back in if I get less than 8.5 hours a night.  He also knows 9 would be better.

He is my rock, my everything.  He married me when I was a mess of a sick person, with more pill containers in my purse than makeup or chap-stick   He stuck by me, he loved me through it.  But I swear.. when I get sick like I did yesterday, I see a little bit of fear in his eyes.  Fear of going backwards, fear of me falling down and him just not having what it takes to lift me up.  But he doesn't need to be.  I am better, I'm different.  I am more capable then I have ever been and healthier than I have been.

There will always be hard days.  We all get food poisoning or the flu, or colds from time to time.  Sometimes these sick days are nice reminder of where I was and how far I've come.  I love being Declan's mommy and taking him for walks and to the park every day.  I savor it.  Those are moments I never knew I'd have and sometimes a sick day mixed in there is a good reminder of just how good I have it now.

Because I do.  I really do.