Fugue State
I have been wide awake since 2 a.m. for no good reason. That will teach me to try to survive without a growing dependency on Unisom. Honestly, I have no idea what the delightful little baby blue pills will do to my insides long-term, so I try to live without them most of the time. I'm sure my liver has the consistency of applesauce by now. However, I think it's time to ask my doctor for something. Anything. I'm eating right, working out every day, and limiting any substances that interrupt sleep. Unfortunately, even though I was due to see my doctor in June, they now are unable to get me in until February. I would bet money that if you asked any once reasonable, professional person who suddenly and inexplicably found it necessary to sit naked on a subway or slap strangers randomly in the midst of a psychotic break, they have already attempted to see a physician for months.
Whenever I need to feel my best and be alert, such as for tonight's youth meeting at church, my body completely betrays me and attempts to sabotage everything by turning me into one of the sleep-deprived walking dead. You wouldn't believe the massive amount of undereye concealer I go through. Erik began sobbing at 4 a.m., a new trend these days, so I went downstairs and crawled into his little bed with him. Overall, I was thankful he put a stop to my slightly groggy online shopping spree. However, I couldn't sleep even with my face in his sweet-smelling hair, of course, and discovered I had to use the bathroom. I tried to gracefully traverse the rickety bed rail and sneak out without waking him. Now that I think about it, I looked pretty darned ridiculous. I would move a few inches and stop. Move a few inches and stop. It was like mommy Claymation. I successfully made it out of bed and stood motionless over him in my fuzzy, blue Bea Arthur bathrobe with my hair in a swirly, looking like a disheveled burgler. Although I was quiet as death, he somehow heard my body at a cellular level and began sobbing yet again. Ironically, hours before this when I had given up on sleep, he slept deeply through my almost breaking a toe as I accidentally booted a heavy, sloshing sippy cup across the hard floor in the dark just outside his door. Go figure. I will live in sweats today, skip my planned trip downtown for a Jazzercise class, and go the love seat to die quietly in front of my beloved Oregon Ducks.
Brian is in Erik's room now. I can hear their sleep sighs on the baby monitor that flickers on my desk.
Just eleven more days to go before Erik's sedated echocardiogram. I would be a fat liar if I said this wasn't heavy on my mind. This week brought a mysterious sense of doom and a ready supply of irritability. It's not that our boy isn't the picture of health -- it's just that nobody seems interested in monitoring anything related to his syndrome here. Most of the doctors here haven't even heard of WS. I'm generally not fond of surprises and hope all goes well. Putting my child under any sort of sedation isn't my idea of the safest thing to do, either. I will throw myself a party when it's all over--until next time, anyway.
That's it for now.
Over and out.
Whenever I need to feel my best and be alert, such as for tonight's youth meeting at church, my body completely betrays me and attempts to sabotage everything by turning me into one of the sleep-deprived walking dead. You wouldn't believe the massive amount of undereye concealer I go through. Erik began sobbing at 4 a.m., a new trend these days, so I went downstairs and crawled into his little bed with him. Overall, I was thankful he put a stop to my slightly groggy online shopping spree. However, I couldn't sleep even with my face in his sweet-smelling hair, of course, and discovered I had to use the bathroom. I tried to gracefully traverse the rickety bed rail and sneak out without waking him. Now that I think about it, I looked pretty darned ridiculous. I would move a few inches and stop. Move a few inches and stop. It was like mommy Claymation. I successfully made it out of bed and stood motionless over him in my fuzzy, blue Bea Arthur bathrobe with my hair in a swirly, looking like a disheveled burgler. Although I was quiet as death, he somehow heard my body at a cellular level and began sobbing yet again. Ironically, hours before this when I had given up on sleep, he slept deeply through my almost breaking a toe as I accidentally booted a heavy, sloshing sippy cup across the hard floor in the dark just outside his door. Go figure. I will live in sweats today, skip my planned trip downtown for a Jazzercise class, and go the love seat to die quietly in front of my beloved Oregon Ducks.
Brian is in Erik's room now. I can hear their sleep sighs on the baby monitor that flickers on my desk.
Just eleven more days to go before Erik's sedated echocardiogram. I would be a fat liar if I said this wasn't heavy on my mind. This week brought a mysterious sense of doom and a ready supply of irritability. It's not that our boy isn't the picture of health -- it's just that nobody seems interested in monitoring anything related to his syndrome here. Most of the doctors here haven't even heard of WS. I'm generally not fond of surprises and hope all goes well. Putting my child under any sort of sedation isn't my idea of the safest thing to do, either. I will throw myself a party when it's all over--until next time, anyway.
That's it for now.
Over and out.
Labels: echocardiogram, insomnia, Williams syndrome
posted by Nancy at 6:52 AM
7 Comments:
Ok, the mommy claymation had me cracking up out loud. Not to mention the part about the sippy cup flying across the floor. I do that so many times, except it's usually with leap frog letter or animal fridge magnets that Connor loves to scatter everywhere.
I have been thinking about Erik's sedated echo also. As Oct was ending I realized how close this was for you. I so so want it to be over. The sedation part is scary. I still get the jitters thinking about our last echo with Connor. But please know lots of people will be thinking about and praying for you.
I wish I could have you over for a cocktail.
Why is it that sometimes when we need it most, our body's are our own worst enemy. Me, I felt that way lately when I tried to put on my favorite pair of jeans...but I'm off point.
I know how hard it is when your kids have to go under, life is completely out of our control sometimes, well, most times. Praying for y'all darlin'.
When it's over, we'll have twin parties to celebrate our good news.
Good luck on your echo. I am with you on the sleep deprivation, only mine is cause Noah isn't sleeping well. Are you exercising in the evening? Sometimes if I exercise to late I have trouble sleeping. Just thought I would mention that in case it would help. Try a glass of wine, that usually works for me.
Their heavy sobbing always gets me - these children of ours. Michael still will come see me in the middle of the night when something spooks him. I used to wake up with him in my bed wodnering how long he'd been in there. That's when I feel most like a mom, though. It's nice to be needed ;)
Ugh on the non-sleeping - you must be a zombie during the day. I'm sure your last paragraph is what is keeping you up. Hopefully these days will fly by so testing day will come and GO!
Love you~
I know how scary it is with a big appointment looming ahead of you. I am so glad that Clare does not have to be sedated anymore. Have you asked them if it is absolutely necessary to sedate Erik? I used to think it was, but now Blues Clues and holding the transducer is enough for Clare!
Oh, T, I wish we could keep Erik still. He tends to have a bit of ADHD these days. The boy is constantly in motion. I'm so happy to hear Clare can sit still...that alleviates a lot of the worry during the study for sure. Maybe we'll get there someday.
Now that I'm catching up, I see why you need the break.
Praying for a "good" report and experience!
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