Sometimes we all need a good cry

My husband hates it when I cry.  I don't cry too often.  In fact, its sometimes feels cathartic and therapeutic.  When it feels like the world is on my shoulders, it feels better just to let it all out sometimes.  I had been wanting a good cry ever since Arthur got sick with this plague that's been circulating, with all of its anxiety, worry, and sleep-deprivation fueled exhaustion and I finally got my cry on Saturday.

I cried over feeling so tired and run down.  I cried over feeling lonely.  I cried over not having anything to look forward to.  I cried because Arthur was refusing to go down for a nap and I yearned for some serious quiet time.  I cried because I couldn't get Arthur to eat or sleep, so what in the hell was I doing here...?  Chris came home and tried to be Mr. Fix-It, but I didn't want him to fix anything.  I just wanted some time and space to let it go.  I needed the steam valve on my pressure cooker.

I came to realize a couple of things over the weekend that I need to bear in mind for the future.

First, just a general reminder that, gods love him, but my husband can be a stubborn bulldog.  I totally get that he just wants to help and doesn't want to see me so upset.  He still doesn't quite get that sometimes I need to be sad so that I can work things out of my system to bounce right back again.  It's how I get back to balance.  I can't ignore it and I feel even more under pressure, like I have to be happy all of the time for my husband's sake.  And I'm pregnant... I'm supposed to be emotionally hormonal from time to time.

Second, my challenge while living in England is that I don't know what all the cool family things to do around here are.  While my husband is more happy with me planning the weekends, I come across this barrier of simply not knowing what's out there.  I need to be more proactive about making lists of things to do.

Third, I need to make some friends here.  Chris's friends are good folks, but they're still in the 'my husband's friends' zone without differentiating themselves as my friends.  I thought hanging out with my mother in law from time to time, augmented by keeping tabs on friends back in the US online would be enough.  It's not the same, however.  I'm going to try out the pre-natal swimming classes on Thursday and see if I can get out to meet other moms locally.

Fourth, doing things for others brings me up-- especially if I get to cook for them.  Its what got me through Friday, which was when I made some chicken soup from scratch for my mother in law.  She's caught Arthur's illness and I took the opportunity on Friday to let her know how much we cared for her-- made her the soup, got her a card, got her some flowers and went for a visit to cheer her up.  Then on Sunday, I made some banana nut bread... since Arthur hadn't eaten his bananas all week and they were going off.  I'm not a fantastic cook and the kitchen we're in now isn't all that great for cooking, but I do okay with what I've got.

Fifth, things do get better after a good cry, almost immediately.  It was still a rough day, but I found the steam to get out to Ikea with my husband and an over-tired toddler.  We braved the crowds and two melt downs in public.  After that, I felt pretty invincible.  I felt like things could just roll off my back so much easier.

While Saturday was a trying day, Sunday was domestic bliss.  Arthur gave us about six hours straight to sleep.  My husband let me lay in until I got up at 7.  I made egg sandwiches for breakfast.  Arthur's appetite started bouncing back.  My husband and I were lock step as a team.  I got the banana nut bread made and it was scrumptious.  We visited the grandparents and delivered some of the banana nut bread to them.  We got home and I took Arthur to the park while Chris added another shelf in the living room.  Arthur took a good afternoon nap.  I made dinner and we had a good family dinner together.

In all, both my husband and I got to do some things that made us each feel fulfilled.  Arthur's recovering from his sickness and we're starting to get our little boy back.  Even though I cried, the weekend ended on an up note.

Week Derailed

It's been a rocky week with my son Arthur being sick.  He's had a stomach virus for the past week and a half.  I could barely get Arthur to eat... finding myself at the receiving end of the good picky toddler eating advice I try to give others, and not doing too well with it this time around.  About all I can get him to eat is Cheerios and follow on milk.  At a grazing rate at best.

Monday got very interesting because Arthur started vomiting and so he had it coming out of both ends. Concerned about his hydration, my husband and I made the call to take Arthur into A&E (Emergency Room).  He was weighed, temperature taken, blood pressure and heart rate taken, and his blood sugar was measured with a heel prick by the nurse.  His sugars looked good.  We waited to see the doctor.  She more or less gave him a full physical, checking to see how well his skin plumped back, checking his abdomen and his little boy parts.  Everything looked fine, though she wanted to consult her seniors.

About fifteen minutes later, a nurse shows up with a cup for a urine sample.  Okay... definitely different from what would have happened back in the US (they would have cath'd him immediately and then I may have had a small battle to fight to make sure they didn't retract him in the process since he's an intact little boy), but I'm willing to try less invasive ways of getting urine samples.  Let me tell you... convincing a 15 month old to pee in a cup at 1:15am in the morning is a true challenge.  I'll give you a hint: get him drinking.

We struggled with this as Arthur didn't like the nipples on the hospital bottles; they didn't have sippy cups on hand; and he was refusing anything from a syringe.  They were about to admit Arthur into the hospital for the night if we couldn't get him to drink.  I sent my husband home to get a sippy cup while I soothed our sorely over tired toddler.  Arthur gleefully started drinking chilled water from his sippy cup and then the magic happened... I got him to pee in a cup.

We got enough urine to test and they did find a little something, so he was sent home with some antibiotics.  I didn't start him on the antibiotic until today since I wasn't sure if he was over his vomiting.  Tuesday, he would have gone to nursery, but I held him back because I thought he was too sick to go.  He did vomit again last night, not nearly as bad as on Monday.  And then he vomited again today when he was at his grandparent's house for a few hours while I got a shower and caught up on sleep.

We have another doctor's appointment set up tomorrow morning to make sure she's informed of what happened on Monday and to get some further advice.  The A&E doctor wanted us to get Arthur to drink sugary drinks, but he's refused anything but follow on formula.  Eating solids hasn't improved either.  And I'm concerned because Arthur is looking skinnier.

At times, Arthur even rejects the follow on milk.  Its like he's gained a sense of how much he can drink now before getting ill.  Consequently, I've been having to talk and cuddle him to sleep rather than being able to let him fall drowsy on the bottle.  This isn't a terribly bad thing-- I've been wanting to bottle wean him at nap time and bedtime at his pace anyways and this sickness is certainly accelerating that pace.

I'll sit still, Indian style, with Arthur positioned in my lap exactly as if I were nursing him.  I cannot relate the number of times I still wished I nursed him, especially since he's so ill anyways.  Both the comfort and the nutrition would do a world of good for him.  Its even possible he wouldn't have gotten sick in the first place if he was still drinking my milk.  My husband tells me, I shouldn't blame myself-- we didn't have nearly the amount of support that we have now.

So tonight I came to a decision and its a bit unconventional, but you know what?  It certainly couldn't do any harm.  When my next baby arrives in October and once this baby and I have nursing down, I'm going to start giving Arthur my milk again.

And while that's out there, I'll say something else too.  I am doing placenta encapsulation-- by hand, out of my own kitchen even.  If it prevents the PND (PPD) that I experienced with Arthur and boosts my milk supply, more power to me.  It shouldn't harm me, nor anyone else.  So, I'm going to do it.  I made that decision several weeks ago but have been sheepish about saying much on it.