I usually have trouble admitting unhappiness. I always fear that people will view me as weak if I don’t put on my best front. I know that’s silly. I would never view a friend who was having a hard time as weak, so why do I fear that others will view me that way? I don’t know, but as difficult as this is for me to say, I’ll admit, I’ve been having a hard time lately.
Violet is in the hospital again (dehydration from her cyclic vomiting syndrome) and her babysitter is staying with her right now. This is the first time I’ve ever gone to work while she was hospitalized. I wonder if there will come a time when it will be easier to hear her little voice crack “mama stay!” as I walk out the door. I know that this is just how life is going to go, so I need to get used to it. But it hurts my heart.
Last night, I looked out the hospital window. Beautiful, sunny, perfect, 70 something degree day. I could hear the joyous calls of children at the playground across the street. And there sat my little daughter slumped over in her hospital bed. Quiet. Dark circles around her tightly clenched eyes. “Can I give you a kiss sweetie?” “No mommy, kisses hurt too much.” The contrast of happy children playing outside, with all the miserable children inside suddenly seemed incredibly unfair.
I decided to ease my unhappiness by texting my husband a barrage of complaints about life. This nurse stinks! This hospital takes forever! The Dunkin Donuts closed early so I can’t get a midnight snack!
On my way to work this morning I passed by that playground which was again full of children, and the thought hit me for what must have been the 100th time, if this doesn’t go away, my daughter is going to miss out on a lot in life. I quickly pushed this thought away as I always do. Worry about tomorrow, tomorrow I reminded myself as I entered the office with my unwashed hair and yesterday’s sweater. I know there are way worse hands to be dealt in life, but some days this hand is kind of hard too.