Adjustment Mode

Thanks to all of you for the encouragement on Puppy's condition. I am trying to be eternally hopeful that she will be one of the lucky ones who finds herself returned to normal at some point. That point is spontaneous, unpredictable---like finding abandoned money on the street. One day, it's just your lucky day. I want her to have one of those lucky days that lasts forever. In the meantime, I'm trying not to be discouraged, but all of this is really overwhelming right now. I guess you could say I'm in Adjustment Mode---adjusting to how radically different and complicated my life got in the span of two weeks.

The first week welcomed me back to work full-time at the office, with Snippet tagging along. It has been incredibly difficult to tend to him and stay focused on work tasks, while trying to make my boss think that it's all a total breeze for me. I don't want him to think anything about me except, "Wow! This girl's got it together." I certainly don't have it together, but I'm trying my damndest to make this work. (sidenote: blogger says "damndest" isn't a word....such an optimist.) I was stretched thin on energy and stamina already when Puppy's diagnosis broke. Now it feels as though I am in constant motion, soothing any number of others' meltdowns without indulging my own. I'm thinking a few weeks from now, I may need to cozy up to a bottle of Pinot Noir and find a few bits of sanity at the bottom of my wine glass.

One bit of good news came today at the pediatrician, where Snippet was declared happily healthy. He still has a raspy sound on occasion, but the doctor didn't hear anything in his lungs. He's chalking the rasp up to boring old phlegm and mucous caused by crying jags or an infant's inability to clear his throat. This seems sound to me as Snippet breathes so quietly while sleeping that I have to float my hand over his chest to make sure he's breathing at all. Since all was well lung-wise, the doctor went forward with giving Snippet his Pc and HIB vaccines today. The poor thing was not as brave as he was for his DTaP shot. He was lying comfortably on the exam table staring me down hard like he does, when suddenly his whole face peaked in surprise and tears. He wailed for awhile and then promptly fell asleep on my shoulder. Oddly enough, I surprised myself by *not* crying along with him. I was sure I would out of sympathy and parental guilt, but instead, something else took over. Without conscious thought, I felt a calmness come over me and did my best to transfer it to him. I have rarely felt like such the strong mom I want to be. (That's not to say I won't lose my shit the next time I intentionally subject him to pain, but today, at least, I kept a clear, compassionate head.)

Please keep us in your thoughts, and wish that things will improve greatly after this weekend, when Jake is going to build a special feeding chair for Puppy. It straps her in and keeps her in the upright begging position so that I don't have to sit with my weight against her on the sofa, trying to hold her vertical for the half-hour wait that follows feeding her. It should be a big help, though I'm sure it will take some major training and coaxing to get Puppy to calmly sit restrained in it. There are more test results due in this week from the vet, so perhaps some bit of doctorly encouragement will follow.