I have found this week REALLY tough.
Pudding has continued to be pretty whingey most of the week, though he is certainly improving, moving around more easily and sometimes going for half an hour without the TV on.
I’ve continued to worry about whether we’re doing the right thing; putting him through this pain and misery voluntarily. It has the potential to save his life but there is no guarantee. It has also made me call into question my own worth as a parent – if I’ve found it this difficult to deal with a week of irritability, how on earth would I cope when it actually gets into the difficult stuff?
I’ve always been keen to read and know as much as possible about what we’re facing but sometimes it can be a double-edged sword.
Even the medical knowledge that I do have from studying clinical medicine in my degree doesn’t always help. I look at Pudding and can see that is moving ok, no stiff neck or rash, no weeping from the surgical wounds, no temperature and not off his food. So logically, I know that there is nothing to really worry about. But after another few hours of miserable crying I can’t help but question that certainty. As a mother, every instinct is to make your child feel better, and when you can’t…
I did ring the research ward yesterday and got some reassurance. All I can do is keep up the painkillers and wait it out.
As the week goes on there are more moments of brightness; yesterday he joined in with Niece’s ballet practice, and this morning I did make him laugh for a while when two of his toys had an argument.
Right now I’m typing one-handed while he snuggles into me to watch more TV. He is not complaining, and he is in the right place for me to drop kisses on his curly head. Right now, I’m content.