Waging The War At Home

I mentioned previously that I did not intend to let so much time pass between posts, however I have been hit with the most difficult series of events since my wife left for Iraq in early February. Starting at the end of February, my almost 16 month old started having difficulty sleeping at night. He has always slept pretty well as a baby and usually he wanted to be put in his crib at night to go to sleep. He would occasionally cry, but most often he would be asleep within five minutes. That changed a couple of weeks ago. Peter started crying as soon as I would lay him in bed. What was usually a 5 minute routine now often takes a half hour or more to get him over the anxiety of going to bed. To make matters worse, Peter began waking up several times at night and read me the riot act between 2 and 3 am, lamenting the fact that he was alone in his crib. I would bring him to bed with me which usually helped, however the crisis culminated with 4 straight days of waking up at 2 am and not going back to sleep for 1 to 3 hours. I was becoming sleep deprived, and losing my usually optimistic perspective on life. He had been playing with his ears a little bit, so I set up a doctor's appointment to investigate the culprit of my new found sleepless nights.

His ears were a little red, so the doctor prescribed an antibiotic to help his ears clear up. However, the actual source of his discomfort was what I assumed was just a normal cold. The doctor said that his "cold" was more likely RSV. RSV is a respiratory virus that commonly affects infants and small children. His oxygen level was a little low in the doctor's office and there was some wheezing in his lungs. They gave him a breathing treatment and prescribed some liquid steroids to help his breathing. He improved dramatically the first day of treatment, and much to my delight, he is sleeping much better again. He still wakes up some nights not wanting to be alone, but that is much more manageable because he goes back to sleep quickly. But the nights of giving up on sleep and catching the 4am showing of "The Cosby Show" are over for now.

I mentioned in a previous post that it is easy to take for granted how much I have relied on Joy, especially when it comes to comfort for the boys. I don't have any problem hugging my boys or telling them I love them, but it seems like that particularly when they are sick, the comfort that I administer pales in comparison to that of mom's. I don't have the same patience and understanding for persistent cries in the middle of the night, and the look that Peter gave me seemed to suggest that he wanted to be sure that I knew that he was not satisfied that momma was not there.

To compound the difficulties of the last couple of weeks even further, I was hit with the unwelcome news that my grandmother passed away last Tuesday. A death in the family is always difficult at best, but I was very close to my grandma, who everyone that knew her affectionately referred to as "Ma." Ma was instrumental in my upbringing. As a kid with a single mom, I spent a lot of time with Ma especially since my mom, brother and I all lived in the same house with my grandpa and Ma. My mom worked hard to take care of my brother and me, so a lot of my time was spent with Ma. She helped instill in me values like working hard, and doing things with excellence. She always had the news on in the kitchen which cultivated my interest in the world and politics at an early age. I still had a good relationship with my mom, it was just that our living arrangements allowed for me to forge a closer relationship with Ma when I was young than most people have with a grandparent.

She wanted her body to be donated to medical science, so there wasn't any funeral to run home to. That is indirectly a blessing because I didn’t have to make a 1600 mile trip back to NY. However, I think that the grieving process was partially stalled for me. It hasn't registered completely that she is really gone. My mom has had some inexplicable health problems since August as well. She has lost over 90 pounds and can't eat very much at one time and after a barrage of tests the doctors still haven't come up with an answer. I hope that this additional stress doesn't make things worse. I am going to visit my family over spring break in about three weeks. Maybe making a pilgrimage back to the home of my childhood will provide some catharsis and I can move on.

On the positive side of things, apart from Peter's sickness and poor sleeping habits, I have had a good time with my boys. We have gone to the park on a few occasions where Peter can climb to his heart's content. He loves the outdoors. In fact, when I get home from work, I have to make sure I close the garage door before I get him out of his car seat or he will cry about going in the house. Aaron is doing exceptionally well. He continues to excel at school and while he misses his mom, he is doing a lot better than he has in the past.

It has been a rough road the last three weeks. I anticipate that there are still many more challenges ahead. While my wife continues to serve in her position supporting the combat in Iraq, I continue to wage the war home that tries to threaten the quality of life in our family. The choice to get up each day, and work full time, and take care of the needs of my boys, and clean my house, and anything else that comes my way is more difficult some days than others. The battle wounds that I wear are characteristically quite different than our soldiers in combat overseas. However, the effects of these wounds can be strikingly similar. It's easy to get knocked off your feet and be down and out and not want to get up. My local pastor has always set a great example for fighting life's battles. He always says, "I am either up or I am getting up." That is the example that I model in my own life. I got knocked off my feet last week when my grandmother died and for a brief moment, getting up didn't seem like a possible choice in the midst of sleepless nights and the mental load of going to work and teaching each day. But I am back on my feet and I am thankful that I serve a God that shows His strength when mine is gone.