A vague annoyance, a slight despair envelops as I witness the world around me, continuing to go on as normal. Nothing slows to meet me, and I can not catch up. Perhaps, I say to nurturing husband, perhaps this is the only time I really feel we have possibly too many children. When I am sick.
The chaos, the rollicking and laughter and messes and fun and craziness of my life is a joy, and most days my heart is so full to overflowing I hardly can contain it. But sickness saps my strength, my joy, and I wonder who will make the meals or wash the clothes or change the sheets. Who will say prayers with the babies at naptime and put band-aids on owies that don't really need them but they bring comfort anyway, and who is going to offer gentle words when someone gets frustrated (perhaps even husband?)
Being sick makes me feel helpless and frustrated. I feel I can not really get sick, everyone just needs me too much.
I speak with my midwife, she says I will need antibiotics and is there a drug store open at this hour? And I know what else she will say and I dread these words more than anything- you will need to stay in bed and rest.
Because HOW can I?
I watch husband try to be mom and dad and see the strain, and think I must get better fast, and lay in my bed and stress. And now I have medicine and pray it will work because I really don't feel any better at all.
I suppose we learn things from being taken care of, from being helpless, that we can not learn from caring for, from helping. Perhaps these are the hardest lessons to truly learn.
As my children bring me my water with lemon, the way I like it, and my husband brings me medicines and teas and tries to keep things quiet so I can rest, I offer thanks. And struggle to learn some of the harder lessons in life...
#67 learning to trust God to take care of what I can't
#68 warm compresses
#69 essential oils- especially lavender, in my bath, on my compresses, in body oil
#70 mail- I have always loved getting little things in the mail, even more so when I lay in bed all day. It is something to look forward to. Letters from family, friends, and little packages from my father to the children.
#71 laughter. I just love hearing it while I am laying in bed back here, the children laughing with their father, watching some silly show on tv together.
#72 prayer. He is closer than my next breath.
#73 new books to keep my mind busy while my body must be still. Currently on the nightstand: Keeping House- The Litany of Everyday Life and In Constant Prayer, along with my Bible and the Book of Common Prayer.
#74 gingerbread. Nigella Lawson's recipe for gingerbread with lemon icing is divine, and my husband has made it for me and served it with tea in the evenings while he snuggles in bed with me.
#75 both awareness and oblivion. Awareness from my older children that mama is not feeling well, followed by tender expressions, touches and gestures, and lots of ssshhhhhing when the younger ones are loud. Oblivion from the babies, who have no idea anything is different, and who offer up happy smiles and coos and just want to be held and loved.