Monday, July 23, 2012

I don't know how to take care of you

This is definitely one of those blog posts that I desperately need to write and might hit the publish button but might take back in the light of day tomorrow.(Note, I've been sitting on this one for 4 months now, and things haven't gotten any less confusing)

I remember being pregnant with Ethan, sitting in a borrowed office at my company's headquarters in Boston, while you worked from our hotel room. And I remember you calling me to say that you'd just had a phone call from your doctor, saying she thought you had Rheumatoid Arthritis, based on some test results and symptoms. But it is a hard thing to diagnose, so she wasn't completely sure. I remember sitting and giving up on my work and researching RA (easy for a Toxicologist with lots of access to medical databases to do) and feeling overwhelmed.

And then we weren't sure again for a while, but two years ago it became abundantly clear to your new doctor and your specialist that you had RA. And slowly our cabinet began filling up with more and more drugs as you tried to manage the pain.

God, Daniel- I cannot live without you.  You are my best friend and the hands-down best thing that ever happened to me.  You ground me, you support me, you make it possible for me to simultaneously be a stay-at-home mom and chase my dreams of standing up for other kids. You are the best thing that ever happened to me.

You are an amazing dad and are possibly the most amazing husband ever. But you SUCK at telling me what you need. You hurt all the time and never complain, which is tough for a vocal/diva/my needs rule the universe woman to deal with. When I have problems, the whole world knows. When you hurt, it takes an act of God to drag it out of you.

You scared me tonight by suddenly turning grey and hurting while we walked around Target. And asking me to drive home and then willingly going to bed before the kids did... I don't know what to think. When a strong person admits to hurting- that is scary.

Taking care of you involves lots of stepping outside of myself and pushing you for answers and information and I do NOT excel at these things.  I'm not your mother, I'm your wife, but I apparently need to find some middle ground between those roles in order to take care of things now.

I've never loved anyone as much as I love you.  God brought us together and I believe He's in control, but sometimes your RA plus Ethan's feeding tube and other issues just wear me out.  Lifting our family up in prayer tonight.