Notes From A House Frau: The Summer Edition

The summer seems to be moving so quickly, it’s hard to keep up with my real life let alone my virtual life. We’ve been spending lovely, long periods of time at the cottage, and the baby (while this particular photo isn’t at the cottage) seems to love the water, most of the time. Sometimes, it’s like anything, really, in life, it just takes a bit of getting used to.

It’s hard to believe that I’ve got about two months of maternity leave left. I’m going back a bit early, because I had taken off early because of all the crazy medical stuff surrounding my pregnancy. And, let’s face it, we are broke. But I am hanging on to what Gail Vaz-Oxlade says: emergency funds are for sickness, and boy have I ever had a crazy year. The latest? I have a stress fracture in my pelvis. That’s right, I have been walking around on a broken pelvis (no wonder it farking hurts) for the last few months. Who knows how it happened but it has something to do with the prednisone. Thankfully, I am taking 1/6 of the dose (from 60mgs to 10) that I was when we started this whole lungs-bleeding-disease-going-mental stuff started with the disease, and I hope that the new drug, the cyclophosphomide, is finally doing the trick.

We have gone beyond exhaustion these days. Luckily, our brilliant little baby excels at almost sleeping through the night. Regardless, the Wegener’s makes you tired, the drugs make you nauseous, sick, and tired, and taking care of an ever-going, never-stoping infant, well, I can barely string together a coherent thought let alone an entire blog post. But the weather has been beautiful and the temperature at the lake remains perfect for swimming. I’m trying to go every day but I don’t always get there. I am trying to make more of his baby food but I don’t always get there either. I am learning that the conveniences of life, while they make me feel guilty as hell, are meant to do just that help mothers like me who are less than healthy.

The most difficult part of dealing with an illness isn’t just the “oh, I’m sick part,” — for me, it’s always been about the loss. I never imagined how much I would love motherhood. Never thought it could become such an essential part of me so quickly. Before I got pregnant, our plans were never to have children, as I’ve written here before. Now, I can’t imagine my life any other way. And it’s not a little change — there’s a brand-new, entirely whole personality now attached to our lives and he takes up a lot of space. He’s a very impressive little one: moving around like a maniac, claiming his mind day by day as his own, deciding his likes and dislikes, putting every single thing in his path in his mouth. But it’s a welcome, wonderful new life, and even if it’s been a rocky road, maybe we’ve turned a corner. In my heart, I would have 27 more babies. I would fill my house up and numerous diaper pails, but I know it’s not reasonable. It’s not practical. I only have so many lives to lose. The disease will only give me so many second chances. So, no more babies for us. It’s the right choice. It’s the only choice. But it does break my heart a little, contemplating him on my birthday and in my favourite season at my favourite place in the world.

I had these grand plans a la Antonia Fraser to keep a summer diary. To take a picture every day and post it up here — a living journal of the only summer I’ve spent not working since I was a teenager. Maybe I will start in August. Maybe I will have more moments to actually prop open my eyes and my heart. Keep your fingers crossed for me: I see the Super-Fancy Disease Doctor on the 3rd. Let’s hope it’s only three months on the big guns, it’s reducing the prednisone and it’s healing up that fracture, and I can have one month, just four good weeks of awesome health before I am back to the daily grind and the whole new distinction of being a working mother.