It's Gonna be a Long Day: True Story

     I thought it was Max. My mind woke sluggishly to the moaning cries. Before I was completely awake I was groping for the bottle and formula, ready for the feeding that comes between 2 am and 5 am every morning. As I rolled myself out of bed to make the bottle and grab wipes and a diaper, I noticed something was off.

Max, in his bassinet next to the bed, was sleeping peacefully with the side of his face all squished onto the little mattress. The pitiful whining was muted. I stumbled my way to the door and opened it. From my door I could see my other kids' room down the hall. Vincent lay curled into the corner of the walls- where his bed snugs up against the wall, oblivious to the apparent agony of his younger brother.

As I entered the room my thoughts were turned towards bad dreams. Thinking to hug and sooth, I leaned down and immediately came back up for cooler air. I couldn't be near the heat radiating from his little body. The fact that he had a fever didn't surprise me because it  had reached 101.3 when I had taken it at 8 pm the night before, but the fact that it felt as though he could fry an egg at 50 paces had me worried.

It took longer than it should to take his temperature. I couldn't calm his and he sat in my arms, moaning and crying and miserable. When the under arm reading was only 99 degrees I knew it was wrong; so, I tried the  under the tongue method and received an only slightly higher 100.7. I am no expert, but I knew when you are too busy moaning to keep your mouth closed while a thermometer is stuck under your tongue.

Sadly, that lead to a rectal temperature being taken.

103.9!!!!!!  Poor guy!

Emergency Room here we come. Again.
Only two hours, but it seemed like we were there forever. Perhaps it was going in when night surrounded us and emerging when the sun shined with that special early morning brightness. The doctors in the ER at 4:30 am are a bit nicer and more personable than when the ER is busy.


So here we are at 8 am, Dimitri simmered down on Tylenol and Motrin and me jittery on lack of sleep (due to staying up until 1 am with crazy organizing) and my Aderol prescription.  It's breakfast time and my kids show no signs of sleepiness. Oh, Joy. it's gonna be a long day!

Bad news leads to rewrite

So far my blogs have mainly revolved around writing. Many will continue to do so, but this blog is also about my family life. It often affects my writing after all.

Anyone whose checked out my works in progress has seen the first novel I ever began on was spun off my fear that my husband, a U.S. Marine, would be mortally wounded in Afghanistan.
Today I found my fingers flying across the pages I have already written and adding more. All because of a call I received around 10:30 this morning. (She Waits- a poem from and for the military spouse)
The call that stopped my breath and had my control wavering.

My husband was hurt. Three and a half hours prior to that call my husband was doing his job and received shrapnel in his legs and arm due to enemy indirect fire for his efforts. One long conversation later, all I really knew was he is hospitalized with what the USMC considers a "serious injury". What is a serious injury, you may wonder. Join the freaking club! "Serious injury" is all I could get. Was he awake or sedated? How bad is the damage? Is there any resulting disability, temporary or life long?

But, no! I'll they apparently know is it's freaking serious!!! Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!

Step one: Don't fall apart in front of the children.
              Find a balance. Let the know I love daddy and am very sad he is hurt, but reassure them that he's being taken care of. He's ok. And don't let them see me fall apart. I watch my mom, the woman I thought impossibly strong, fall apart, break and it frightened and hurt me. That I can not put on my children. So, hold it together. Hold it together. Hold it together. This is my motto for today and who knows how long.

Step two: Wait excruciatingly, impatiently for information.
             Waiting. I am not sure what is more nerve wracking when waiting for information about a loved one in trouble. So, keep my mind and hands busy. This proves easier than I thought. One of the kids are throwing up green stuff, gotta pay insurance before it's cancelled and take a paper to the doctor to fill out so I can get more baby formula from WIC....Get dinner, keep kids busy and happy.
When a lull presented itself and I found my mind too close to worries best left alone until the kids are in bed, I turned to my writing, but my story of genies, wishes, adventure and love refused to flow. The little I wrote was stilted and confusing. I scraped it. That's when "Warriors" caught my eye. While the kids ate dinner, I felt no hunger myself, the words poured out of my finger tips with passion. I could not stop the out pour if I had wanted to. I didn't. But know the well has dried up and my story id better than before.

Step three: Make it through the day.
                The day is finally done- as far as my kids are concerned. They are asleep and have taken comfort in the dream catcher that hangs in their window. For me, well, a glass of wine awaits. Something I look forward to in what is sure to be an endless, sleepless night.

But again, as most days, my family life has affected my writing. And while I wait and pray for more information, hopefully saying hubby's ok, my writing will help keep my mid and fingers busy, getting me through the day.