Gentleness

I've been thinking about blog posts for about a week now and I just couldn't come up with anything until this morning.  Needless to say, it's been a long few days.

As I'm sure everyone knows, 2.0 has asthma and since May, he hasn't had an exacerbation of the condition until yesterday.  The pediatrician's office warned me that he might have some trouble with the asthma now that it's fall because of a recurrence of allergies at this time of year.  This became true for us on Monday.

2.0 wouldn't nap.  Normally he'll gladly go down for a nap when it's time, especially when he's tired.  I knew my little boy was tired on Monday, but he wouldn't lay down for longer than 45 minutes and he fought me the whole way down.  When it was time for bed, he didn't go to sleep until it was two hours past his bedtime.  He was acting like he was having a panic attack, then threw a tantrum.  Finally he slept; only to wake about an hour or two later and every hour or two after that until 7AM.  That's when his father and I noticed the river of snot running down his face.

I listened to his chest and sure enough; I heard loud wheezing.  The bottom part of his lungs weren't even filling with air.  Time to pull out the nebulizer, the face mask, and the Pulmicort.  My poor exhausted little boy  fought that breathing treatment as hard as he could, but finally slept for over two hours and mostly through the night last night.  Today he's been my happy little boy with the attitude I realize is from being almost 2 and wanting to do everything himself.

Nate had an interesting conversation with me after 2.0 went to bed last night.  He told me that he remembered his Grandma Ward coming to check on him in the middle of the night when he was very little and how gentle she was with him.  She'd come in his room and talk softly and gently soothe him back to sleep.  It was a pleasant memory and he holds on to it fiercely to this day.  Nate told me that he wants 2.0 to have that fond memory of his mother someday, coming into his room when he cries at night and gently putting him back to sleep.

There are times that my darling, sweet, loving, bright little boy drives me completely up the wall.  When he wakes at night over and over and over again, I feel this little part of me rising up and threatening to take the softness from my touch and the gentleness from my words.  It's this little part of me that whispers in the back of my mind "why can't you just go back to sleep on your own?".  I clench my fists as I get up out of bed and shake off the fog of sleep to pick up my glasses from the nightstand and take care of the precious miracle that I begged God for.

But when I see him sitting up in his crib or standing at the railing with tears running down his face and his pacifier hanging from his mouth, I remember one thing:

He's awake because something in his world is WRONG and only Mommy can make it better again.

I hear my husband's voice too, in a memory of this very conversation about gentleness that we had when 2.0 was only a few weeks old and I struggled with post partum depression that made me unsure if I was even good enough to be 2.0's mom.

I want 2.0 to remember that his mom got up in the middle of the night and cared about him enough to swallow her own feelings so she could care for him.  I want him to remember that no matter what, I always would come to comfort him.  But most of all, I want him to remember that when the monsters in his imagination (which are real now but won't be later) came to get him, Mommy came and chased them all away.

Gentleness is what I strive for now, in every moment.  No matter what.