When I first thought about blogging this morning, I was pretty sure it was going to be a venting-style post. Me complaining about how frustrating life is right now. But the more I reflected on the complaining, the more I realized that all my anger, frustration, and complaining really boiled down to two things:
1. Projectile vomiting
2. Not knowing about the house in Michigan
Our recent bout of colds brought back Abigail's reflux issues with a vengeance. We've been struggling with her excessive vomiting since she was born - the doctors assure us the only thing we can do is give her an antacid to prevent the reflux from causing pain. Anyway, the vomiting is not related to what she's eaten or what she's doing. We can be quietly reading books in her room two hours after a meal and BOOM! Projectile. Everywhere. I got out of the shower this morning to discover that her pajamas were covered, it was smeared into the pages of a few of her books, and she'd ransacked her dresser and gotten sick on a bunch of her clean clothes.
Normally Abigail only gets a pacifier at naptime and bedtime, but to stem the tide of output, I give her the pacifier 24/7. Keep the liquid going in the other direction. Much to the chagrin of her therapists who would rather not see her speech and cognitive development stymied by a dastardly pacifier.
That's the second part of projectile vomiting. The spells happen too often to cancel therapy every time they occur, but there is something really maddening about opening the front door in my "I'm okay getting vomit on these" clothes, my worst bed-head hairstyle, my puke-stained child, and my house reeking like I've got an eau de vomit candle burning. And then there's the fact that the therapists don't really like for parents to sit out of sessions. Gotta love the eighth "can she cross her mid-line" discussion of the week sitting in the midst of the eau de vomit candle.
Secondly, not knowing about the house in Michigan is making me crazy. I hate not knowing where I'm going to be living in 3 months! This will be our 7th address in our 5 years of marriage and I feel like if I don't get some stability soon, I'm going to crack. I don't want to rent because there is so much uncertainty in renting (Will they renew our lease? Will rent go up? Do we want to stay here another year?). I want this damn house.
So anyway, these two issues are coloring everything else. There is no light at the end of the tunnel on these two issues and suddenly I'm too fat and the kitchen is a mess and I'm a bad cook and my Etsy shoppe is failing miserably and I'm a terrible writer, and Abigail is never going to stop pulling the cats' tails and we're never going to pay off our law school debt and you get the picture.
But just because life isn't going 100% my way doesn't mean that my entire life is hell. A few issues over which I have no control should not be allowed to negate the 10,000 other blessings. Like the fact that Abigail is leukemia-free. Or that she had no complications from heart surgery. Or that all of her therapists genuinely have her best interest at heart. Or that Matt and I have a strong marriage. Or that we have a roof over our heads and no risk of losing it. Or that we can pay all our bills. Or that we can eat grass-fed beef. Or that we have a working vehicle. Lots and lots of really good things outweigh the few bad.
There is a fine line between letting yourself be frustrated over frustrating things and not letting the depression get the best of you. I don't always get it right. But I think today, I am.