Essential Baby blogger Kylie Orr
Somehow I slipped through the cracks when they were handing out the sympathy gene. I must have been standing in the impatience line, because I sure got an overdose of that. When I was bejewelled the crown of motherhood, I didn't seem to magically gain patience and sympathy.
This is not to say I have no care, understanding or even compassion for my children. As a general rule, I have plenty. I love them more than a triple layered chocolate mousse cake with double cream. Did I say more? Maybe as much as.
It's when they are sick (yes, when they probably need it the most), that I struggle to come to the party with the gift of sympathy. I just don't cope well with carrot chunks in vomit, frothy poo, stringy snot and slimy phlegm. Even writing those words makes me queasy. Apologies if you just ate.
My troops have had colds for a fortnight. Every time I swing around there is a green trail sliding out one of their noses. Night-times see a haunted house of congestion with constant coughing fits and the sound of mucous trying to shift from some internal pocket in their chest. Taking temperatures, administering pain relief, giving cuddles and delivering whatever the darlings fancy to eat or drink, I can manage for about a day, maybe two.
When the whinging sets in, I feel like I am trapped in motherhood hell. Babies who won't be put down, who cannot be close enough to you, in fact who would crawl inside your skin if they could. Toddlers who lose the plot at any given moment because they are unable to articulate what is hurting. Older children who are bored and frustrated because they must rest in order to get better, and cannot be tamed with another DVD or hot Milo.
Don't cane me, I do feel bad for my children when they are unwell. I don't like them being sick because they are in pain and uncomfortable and no parent wants their child to suffer. Derr. I think it is just being in a house of germs where everyone is a tad niggly, living on the edge of reason while their body pulls out an army to fight off the nasties. Frustration at a high and endurance at a minimum is not the winning formula for a happy, peaceful house. There's a valid reason I didn't become a nurse.
In retrospect, I should be a lot more giving of myself than I am when the children are ill because I know it is only a few days of my life. And I'd love for them to associate being sick with being cared for in a loving way by their mother, who bought them hot soup and jelly rather than someone who cursed under her breath when the third lot of vomit hit a new patch on the rug. The problem is, once I know they are predominantly OK, the headspace turns to practicality. Great! More washing. More housework. More medication. More complaining, mostly by me.
We are one of the lucky families. Generally, our children are in excellent health apart from the common lurgie that is unavoidable unless you're a hermit. Our littlest man contracted a cold, a gift from his older brother, which progressed to a chest infection. Seeing him miserable and lethargic was both awful and concerning. A follow-up trip to the doctor had the experts concerned so we were referred to emergency for an x-ray to rule out pneumonia. I got a tiny glimpse of what it must be like to have a child who has an ongoing illness. Or worse, a life threatening disease. The worry, the uncertainty, the feelings of complete helplessness, and the dread of a deteriorating condition all weigh heavily on the mind of a parent. Fretting about the washing and the vomit on the carpet barely hits the radar.
Watching your child struggle is heart wrenching and components of your life that seemed so important hours before, fade into the background.
I bow in complete admiration to any family who is suffering through the illness of a child. It is stressful and draining and can completely take over your life. My life's been on hold for a couple of weeks but I know the sunshine is just around the corner and these colds will pass. I cannot imagine living a life where you were unsure of the fate of your child with their health the centrepiece.
Maintaining a positive front, sympathy and stamina is a Herculean feat. Everything else must seem so mundane and trivial. People complaining about having a runny nose or a sore gut must make you want to slap them with a wet fish. Perspective, people! Get some. Mostly, I am yelling this out loud to myself. If you have a wet fish, feel free to take a swing.
The husband's telling me has a sore throat. Man Flu again? Sorry, I'm all out of sympathy.
How do you handle life when your child is sick? Can you maintain sympathy or do you get a little testy yourself? Leave a comment for Kylie here.
Read other Kylie Orr blogs.
