I know it’s been quiet for longer than usual.
I spent last week in Austin for work.
When I returned this week, after a few busy days, little bit had her tonsils out.
I thought with this time at home with her, I’d have time to write. But her recovery has proved harder than we expected. She went in with some sickness to begin with, so her cough and congestion have slowed her bouncing back.
I’ve got a series of “mom” stories I wanted to write.
Funny bits from the past couple years I hope to fit into a book.
However, the past several quiet days remind me of the gift of mothering. Not the ease of mothering, mind you. It’s been a hard few days. But the gift.
The boys demanded to go to the surgery with Bray and I. This seemed like an unwise decision, but we acquiesced. I love that about triplets. Even with all their fighting, when the going gets tough, they stick together. The boys were quite frustrated they couldn’t get into pre-op. They did make it back to post-op, for a few minutes, but little bit’s awakening from anesthesia was unpleasant. Their presence, however earnest, didn’t help.
After a day with the boys “help,” we let the eldest go to the farm with Bray’s sister and kids while Bray took the baby to the ranch. Little bit and I tried to make the best of it. The days have been quiet but full. I focused on insisting she drink fluids. She focused on trying not to swallow more than necessary.
We ventured out for a few minutes today to pick her up a “heal faster” Lego set and some more medicine. God bless Legos. They are the perfect toy for a child recovering from surgery. Balloons appeared on our doorstep from my mom and my dad and stepmom and my work. Balloons which she took into every room she moved into.
She finally ate tonight. Not much, but food, thank heavens.
I woke with her in the middle of the night and tried to make the pain medicine go down easier somehow.
She cried and we held onto each other. We prayed for God to give her rest and peace and we thanked God with every day that passed and brought her closer to better.
I didn’t actually help her physical pain as far as I can tell. Well, maybe the popsicle deliveries helped. But she needed me, and I stayed fully present. I didn’t put on a lick of makeup or fix my hair or even remember to shower until day 3.
This is why I always wanted to mother. I kissed her head and braided her hair and rushed her water and cried with her in her suffering. It is the most unglamorous part of motherhood but the most important. I pray she won’t remember how excruciating this recovery was. If I were to hazard a guess though, she’ll remember us sitting at the table putting together LegoFriends puppy daycare and playing Old Maid and Sorry. I know I’ll remember her snuggled in my lap watching Annie, and the hours of sleep lost at 3 am will be worth being able to coax her back to sleep at 4 am.
I wish she hadn’t gone through this ickiness. When fall strep goes around though, we’ll be grateful she doesn’t contract it a half-dozen times. And I’ll always be grateful for these quiet days of reading and watching movies and lazy mornings. I’m acutely aware of how these mothering moments become more rare as the years past.