Lessons from my daughter #18.
I taught my daughter a new word while she was teething. Owie. She says it so beautifully too, with a long emphasis on the ‘eeeeeeeeee’ at the end followed by a little sigh. It wasn’t long before Miss L started pulling herself up on all the furniture in the house followed by a regular tumble or two. Out came the owwwiiieeeeeeeeee and Mumma came racing. A few cuddles and a kiss on the knee or head or elbow and she was off again. I was so proud.
Then, last week, I was washing dishes while Miss L played with her instruments. She wasn’t happy and took to crawling under my feet and pulling open the kitchen drawers instead. I picked her up, put her back with her instruments and then got back to work. Then repeated the process again. And again. And then came an owie from across the room. I went running but there was no bump, no bruise and no blood. Just a cheeky girl who wanted attention. This week the owie has made an appearance when breakfast took too long to get ready, when bath time didn’t last long enough, when bed time came too soon and when the car seat was her least favourite thing in the whole world. I’ve created a monster!
We’re having a down day today. Miss L is asleep on my shoulder and I’m on the couch watching Play School by myself. It’s 39 degrees already and getting hotter but the real reason we’re indoors is because I’m too tired to move. I spent last night in the ER.
From the very beginning of this adventure with my heart I have been determined to be well. I never wanted to be one of those invalids that spend every day telling everyone they meet about their latest symptom and how exhausting life is. Don’t get me wrong, being unwell is exhausting, but I swallowed it down, sucked it up and kept going. In fact, over the past few months I have taken on more than I am capable of on purpose just to prove that I am ok, that my heart condition doesn’t rule my life and that I am still me. The wolf has been circling and I’ve not cried once.
More fool me. Instead of crying I just landed myself back in hospital with sharp pains in my neck, arm and back and the growing fear that I was facing a heart attack all over again. It turns out it was probably just nerve pain from overexertion but two beds down a lady really was having a heart attack and the long wait while my tests were being run was a stark reminder of how close I came to losing my life nine months ago.
So today I’m crying owie with my daughter. The breakfast dishes are sitting dirty in the sink, the laundry is in varying stages of cleanliness, the nappy bin is unemptied and the beds are unmade. Instead, I am holding my little girl on my chest and enjoying the miracle of listening to her breathe and feeling our hearts beating against each other. I’m not sure how to go about it but I will be doing more to hold that wolf at bay in the future. Life is too precious.