There are 3 words I've come to fear terribly "blocked duct" and "mastitis". I've had BD's about 3 times now and for the past 3 days have had the dreaded M word. It's like having a really bad flu with fever with the added plus of your boob swelling up like a melon so it looks like you have a tumor ('cause there's not enough to stress about of course) and it hurts like hell. This coupled with several other major stressers going on as of late and even my doctor feeling very sorry for me this morning have left me wanting my own mommy for the first time in as long as I can possibly remember.
It's weird how you can at once be grateful for the many blessings in your life like my amazing daughter who lights up our lives with a flash of that incomparable smile, or the love of my partner who is such a great daddy or that my doggie is still alive and well despite his 17 years of life, and truly the list goes on ... and yet at the same time you can at times get so bogged down and find it hard to breathe even; sometimes because of the very blessings you love so much and wouldn't trade for the world? Does that make any sense?
Like how I miss sleep (I think I just heard angels sing as I typed the word) so much, or how I miss not having to be Cinderella all the time (minus of course that bit with the pumpkin, fabulous dress and shoes) although I did of course find Prince Charming... but then of course there should be a sequel called "Sleepy Cinderella gets Mastitis, loses her short term memory and cleans up after mini Princess & Prince Charming for the rest of her life and they live happily ever after until she dies at the age of 35 from sheer exhaustion" - a reality book for children.
Well when all else fails, there's always sarcasm to save the day...or my short term sanity. Here's to you Allie.
1 comment:
Glad that my sharp-tongued style of sarcasm is helping someone else! Really, as long as you can laugh at yourself through the tears it's all good. Oh, and also sleep once in a while. That would be good. That would be most excellent. It would be really fantastic if we could actually get a solid 8 hours in a row. Ya...and monkeys might fly outta my butt. Oh, the joy and bliss and exhaustion and sleep deprivation and forced smiles and tears of happiness and grinding of teeth and pulling of hair (literally and figuratively) of raising a child...wouldn't want to have missed it for the world. Oh, but how I wish for sleep...
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