Zoe's flu - and being "bad dad"

I am so tired. Zoe got the flu last Thursday (today is Monday), and my life has been so stressful since then. Thursday night, Zoe threw up 4-5 times during the night, and coughed when she was sleeping. Friday night she only threw up 1-2 times, but she still coughed all night. Needless to say, I got no sleep either night.

Saturday night she didn’t throw up, but woke up screaming and it took me almost 2 hours to get her back to sleep. After that, it was 4am and I couldn’t get back to sleep. During the day on Sunday, my mom came over and watched her for a few hours so that I could get some work done (I had a Monday and Tuesday deadline to meet), then that night my dad came to watch her during the night so that I could sleep.

Worst thing is, I’m still sleep walking this morning. I have no energy, no concentration, and just overall exhausted. I’m not even sure I remembered which events went with each night when I wrote the stuff above this. On top of all that, I fell like I can never get a break – it’s like I careen from crisis to crisis with no opportunity to establish a routine.

In the midst of it all, I had to be “bad dad” this morning. I hate that. Zoe has a prescription for Tamiflu, and she wouldn’t take it this morning. I tried all the tricks I know – give it quick (she threw it back up immediately), give it in little parts (wouldn’t take the first one), putting it in a spoon for her to hold, even mixing it with chocolate syrup (my sister’s idea). No go. In the end, I had to trap her arms and lay her on her back, then put it in her mouth while she screamed, and hold her in place until she swallowed.

I know that’s happened to all parents at sometime – I remember having to do it with Rachel. But, even though giving her the medicine is the right thing to do, I still feel like such a bad dad for having to do it that way. I love my daughters, and I don’t want to do anything that makes them scream like that. She was fine 2 minutes later, as I knew she would be, and was laughing in the car later, but I still hated it.

Oh, well. Back to work. Maybe I can wake up enough to get something done…

Packing away a part of me

It was like packing away a part of me. Tonight, I finally started putting away the nativity sets that were out as part of our Christmas decorations. Michell collected nativity sets – she had about 40 or so – and every Christmas, she would clear spaces around the house and display them all to help remind us that Jesus is the truth of Christmas.

It wasn’t just the fact that she collected them, or that they are a part of my collective memories of our life together, that made it so hard to put them away. You see, I started her collection. For the first few years we were married, we had such a small budget for Christmas that I usually found myself in the dollar store looking for just one more thing.

The first year, I found a nativity set – a white, porcelain single piece set that didn’t exactly match the picture on the box. I gave it to her, and she liked it. The next year, I found another $1 nativity set – a faux stained glass one with a tea light candle holder in the back, and again she liked it.

After a few years, I remember asking her if it would be ok if I didn’t give her one for Christmas. At first she said yes, but about two weeks later she came back and said that it would bother her if I didn’t given her one, and so the tradition continued.

I even remember one year, when I was shopping on Christmas Eve (no gifts yet purchased), and the store I was in had already cut prices by 50%. There was a really cool nativity, which, even at 50% off, would consume my entire budget. I called and asked her if it would be ok if she only got one gift, and she said it would be.

That nativity became a permanent fixture in our home. It was on display all year long – and as I sit here typing at my computer, I can look over my shoulder and see it on the shelf. It gets to stay out, along with a few others that were in Michell’s display case, and two that I chose to keep out (one from our last anniversary trip, and one that was originally her grandmother’s).

The rest have now been packed into boxes, and should make the journey back under the stairwell in the next day or two. I can’t imagine what it will be like next Christmas. All I know is that soon after I started putting them away, I had this overwhelming feeling that I was packing away a part of my life – a part I didn’t ever think would end, a part I miss more than words can say. There’s a deep down hurt, and sometimes (like now, as I type) that it pushes up to the surface, and I can’t help but cry.

Too much to post...

Seems like I don’t get time to post anymore. Zoe still isn’t sleeping well (last night she was up from 2-4am), so I am tired most of the time, and I’m also behind at work because of all the visits to the doctor.

Recently, I’ve wanted to post about several things:
1) more issues with being angry when Zoe won’t go back to sleep
2) having a week-long time frame when I didn’t seem to grieve anymore (that ended)
3) missing Michell because of special events (Rachel’s birthday, Easter)
4) crying when Zoe says “mommy”
5) great fun at Rachel’s sleepover birthday party

But, in the end, I’m posting about all the things I wanted to post about. Hopefully I’m going to get caught up at work over the next few days, and then I can get back to more regular posting.

If you’re praying, and I can tell that many of you are, pray for Zoe to sleep well, for me to get some big projects done at work, and for some good 5-minute supper ideas (hot dogs and sandwiches I know, but I’m getting tired of hot dogs…).
Pray also for a friend of mine who needs prayer more than I do. And thanks again for all the encouragement and prayer.

Missing My Help-Mate

It’s been a while since I last posted, partly because of busyness and partly because the trip to NC left me numb. I also had some big work deadlines that kept me overwhelmed with work for a few days.

Today, more than any time so far, I miss the support of my help-mate. Zoe threw up last night around 5pm, and had a temp of 101. I called my parents, and they were on the way to pick up Rachel so I could take Zoe to an Urgent Care, and Rachel just started to cry. “I miss mommy,” she said through her tears, and together we cried. My help-mate, I need you.

About 11pm, when Zoe had been crying for over an hour, I finally thought I had gotten her back to sleep. I didn’t even make it all the way back to the bedroom before she started crying again. I wanted to wait in the bedroom, to give her a few minutes to see if she would get herself back to sleep, but I got so angry. Angry that I couldn’t get her to sleep, angry that I couldn’t make her feel better, and angry that she couldn’t understand that the best thing she could do was sleep.

I stormed down the hall, I threw open Zoe’s door. I told her “No, Ma’am. You have to stop. You have to sleep.” I even popped her hand, like I do when she does something wrong. Of course, it only made things worse – me being angry with her. She didn’t understand my anger; she just wanted to be comforted. Michell always knew when I was getting frustrated, and we took turns to keep me from getting angry. Last night, I was just glad when she finally went to sleep (11:45). Today, I have cried from missing Michell, and from letting my anger get loose.

Michell, my help-mate, I need you so much. How can I do this all by myself? Why can’t you come back? I miss you so much. I need you so much. Why can’t you come back? This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be.

Good trip, Hard trip

So, we’re back safely to Cookeville.

The trip to NC was good – the girls had a great time with Granny & Papa (who claim, however erroneously, that no spoiling occurred), we got some great family time, and I got a chance to reconnect with lots of friends.

The trip to NC was hard – Michell and I met there, dated there, and lived there for the first 7 years of our marriage. Everywhere I went, I was reminded of a time with her, which in turn reminded me of how much I miss her.

For me, the best part of the trip was the fact that I felt OK at M’s parent’s house. I wondered if I would be able to stand being there without her, but it was ok. It didn’t feel right, especially the first day, but I wasn’t overwhelmed by it either. I can (and will) go again, without fear.

The worst part of the trip was driving around. For one, it just takes so much longer to get anywhere there – at least 30 minutes for short trips, and more like 60 for longer ones. But more importantly, Raleigh was always Michell’s back yard – when we drove around, she would always know a better way to get there, and we would always hold hands and talk on the trip.

The worst was probably Monday afternoon. I had just visited my old work, and did a quick “drive by” of our old house in Garner. I was headed to dinner before the visitation at Raleigh First. I couldn’t stop crying. I kept asking the questions that have no answers – Why did she have to die? Why can’t I have her back? We were supposed to be together for a lifetime.

10 years just wasn’t enough.