This, I believe, is a universal truth and something I've known from my own experience for over three years now. However, it's really been hitting me hard lately.
A couple of weeks ago, I was mostly focused on how painful this pregnancy has been. It's difficult to move around, everything hurts, and Jeff is always making fun of me for breathing like I just ran a marathon when all I've done is walk across the house. Despite all this, and my whining, it was bearable.
Then Gabriel broke his leg. I now know a kind of guilt, worry, and heartache that many mothers before me have experienced when their children have been hurt or very sick. That day, I had absolutely no idea how we were going to manage. The cast begins at his right ankle, goes all the way up to his chest, and back down the other leg to his knee. It's too heavy for him to even roll over on his own. He can't sit up. He can't reach his own feet. He can't use the restroom without a lot of help.
For the most part, he has had a great attitude and handled all of this really well. He's also been a bit spoiled, with people buying him toys and things to keep him busy while he can't run around and play like he otherwise would. So many people have been so helpful in trying to ease this burden.
But there are, naturally, difficult times. Sometimes he gets frustrated with the cast and complains that he wants to stand up by himself. Sometimes he cries and cries for us to get the cast off of him. Bed time takes a minimum of an hour, because there's always something that's not right: the pillow propping up his leg is touching his foot, his bottom feels funny, his cast feels sticky, his room is too dark (with three night lights), his shadow is too big, etc. I know some of this is just a three-year-old trying to push back bedtime, but I also know that sometimes he calls me into his room for legitimate reasons, like when his leg finally hurts so bad that he wants the extra yucky medicine. And even when I know he's calling me for something silly, the knowledge that he's so utterly helpless keeps me trying to tend to his needs/wants.
Even still, I feel like all of this would be manageable if it weren't for my original problem: this pregnancy has been hard and I'm in a lot of pain. And because I'm so pregnant, I'm left helpless as well. While I can bring him things and arrange his pillows, I can't lift him to adjust his comfort, to move him from one room to another, to put him in the car or help him got potty or anything. I'm of no use.
Jeff has been great about this and is there whenever Gabriel needs help moving, but he'll have to go back to work soon so that he'll still have some time to take off when the baby comes. I have lots of family that will be helping, and I'm grateful for that, but I absolutely hate not being able to take care of my kid.
To make things even more exciting, I'm scheduled to have a c-section just a few days after Gabriel will be getting his cast off in five weeks. Poor Jeff will have to go from taking care of Gabriel to helping me recover from major surgery. Again, we have lots of help. It's still hard on us.
Basically, I'm physically exhausted and emotionally drained. I know we'll get through this, but I think it helps to take a minute to stop just trucking along and acknowledge just how hard things are sometimes. It's hard. It'll be okay, but it's hard.
Side note: Lily has also been great, and she hasn't let some stupid cast keep her from getting quality time with her brother.
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