The Crazy Train

On Friday I made a last minute appointment with Miette's doctor because she still seemed to be agitated and in pain so much of the time and I thought maybe we could try increasing the dose on her medication. As it turns out, she isn't gaining weight the way that she should (again), and we need to take more aggressive measures to try to find out what is going on with her. We are trying a new medication, more frequent feedings, supplementing her regular nursing with expressed breastmilk, keeping her upright more often, seeing a lactation consultant, and checking back in with the doctor on Wednesday.

Thankfully none of that is too invasive in terms of her body. It is invasive in terms of our life. We may find that nothing too complicated is going on, or it might turn out that something complicated is going on. I guess those are our basic options. I'm not feeling nearly as stressed out about it today as I was last night. Just a little weary of round-the-clock vigilant baby care. Aren't things supposed to start getting simpler right around now? I must have made that expectation up out of thin air.

This mom-worry thing sure is a doozy, though. The thing about it is, I know it could be worse - way, way worse. And maybe that is just the problem. I never feel secure in things not being that bad precisely because I know they could get worse, and I often know 5-10 specific ways they could become worse at any given time. And I fear those 5-10 specific ways. I also wrack my brain (against my conscious will, of course) thinking of yet more ways. More ways that things could be worse. For instance? Drumroll, please: Miette could have totally screwed up intestines and need surgery; Miette could be kidnapped; I could have undiagnosed cancer; Jesse could have undiagnosed cancer (!); Jesse might never get a job; our apartment and all our belongings could burn down; Tobin might not return from India - ever... Need I go on?

Why this psychotic train of thought? I could be wrong, but I think it is because a part of me genuinely believes that if I can anticipate the bad things, think of them first, then a) they won't happen or b) I'll be one step ahead in thinking of ways to solve or cope with the bad things. But it is a futile game. I know people, dozens of people, for whom life has gone tragically wrong at some point or another. I can think of examples of real people who have faced most of the things that I fear. These examples violently sweep away any suggestion that I can expect God to keep me safe. To keep me sheltered from loss and pain and hardship. If He is my only hope, my only true security, and I can't count on Him to protect me and the people I most love from all harm, what then? The short answer is: I don't know.

Even still, I am not without hope, not without comfort, not without help. But it is elusive, complicated, difficult to describe clearly and logically - or even helpfully right now, it is too late at night and my brain is tired. I wish it were easier. I wish it were clearer. I wish that my hope and my faith and my words were more solid. As it is, they are just enough. Just enough for right now. Good night.


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