oh me.

I have told you about my anxiety with my kids before.
When Maddox was a tiny baby, I was out of control some days.

While I think I control it most days...Rather well, really.
Randomly, all of the sudden, out of no where...
It will smack me in the face.

Maybe like a an ex drug addict getting a whiff of crack or something.

Before I even know what is happening, I am in tears--
trying to practice the feelings that I might have if something terrible happened to my family... imagining how I will survive without one child...
Thinking about how my marriage would crumble under such circumstances...
and how frustrated I am with myself for having children at all-- for allowing myself to love something so deep that isn't guaranteed another minute with me.
Scared to be a mother of two, because now I have to live for the other one.
No giving up.

Before I know it, I am wrapped up in anxiety--
fighting like hell to free my thoughts.

I know it all sounds nuts.

Judge me all you want...
but if you have anxiety...
you know.

After years of this...
I know mine is directly related to hormones.

And I know my hormones are bonked out right now,
because my eyes feel with tears about sixteen times a day.
Sweet things.
Stories that haven't happened but I imagine could happen.
Songs.
Pictures...
Just whatever.
I'm back to a mush.

Today it is Beckham.

***
He had gastro Friday.
Vomiting all day-- followed by diarrhea...
You remember, don't you?

Saturday, he seemed better, just not wanting to eat yet.
Sunday he was perfect, however, still refusing foods and sleeping a lot.
Monday I made a trip to Target to buy some baby food pouches, because he looked thin to me and the only thing the little tyke had eaten in since this all started was a pouch of applesauce.
So get more applesauce.
I did try Chickfila at lunch (which he refused) and declined dinner as well-- but I did manage to strong arm him into one yogurt pouch yesterday.
That is it.
24 hours...
4 ounces of mush.

Today he refused breakfast again, and lunch...
So I called the doctor.

Yes I am a nurse.
Yes I am a pediatric triage nurse.
But when it is my child, all rationality goes out the window.

I rarely take my kids to the doctor.
A. they don't get sick too often
B. I don't panic usually-- and try and let things ride.

But if I call...
I want advice.
Reassurance, even.
And as pediatric nurse, that's about 80% of our job.

So when I am the worried mommy-- I want to be treated like every other worried mommy...
with compassion and honest answers,
and not like a "nurse" who "knows better".

But what I got was, "I am not worried about it."

He is going 10 hours between urine output.
He is obviously losing weight.
He will not swallow anything of substance at all...
But we aren't worried.

Maybe it is dramatic, but I feel like my chunky baby is dwindling away before my eyes....
And the fact that not one piece of solid food has not touched his lip in 5 days...
(except the marshmallow that he stole out of Maddox Lucky Charms this evening and before Maddox could squawk his rebuttal, I begged, "please let him eat it-- it is a start.") kills me.

But we are going to wait.
And watch.
And pray.

Because that's all I can do really.

He vomited (3 times) again today...
So I hope that this was just the last of the virus shedding from his tiny system and he will bulk back up in no time.

But until then, I will worry.

***
Maddox and I prayed that Beckham will start eating...
and if you have a second--
(even though I know there are a million worse things that could be happening to him)--
please do it too.

His mommy needs her chucky-munk back.
And a well baby before we board an airplane and jump states.