Tuesday, October 6, 2009

running and swimming

So, I've got this air cast on for a couple of weeks to heal a stress fracture. My running with Rachel (specifically pushing a stroller) took its toll on my leg. Now I have been sent to the pool to run; no impact cardio for me for awhile. Running in the pool is strange. The workout completely changes from shallow end to deep end; my whole running motion has to compensate when I can't touch the bottom. (I also have to convince the lifeguard that I'm not drowning, I'm "running".)

If life were a pool, I would say lately, it seems as if I can't touch the bottom anywhere. I think the adrenaline has run out. When Rachel was born, we were ready, albeit scared, for an adventure. Now with Janneke, it's the same adventure, and we aren't having the same surge of energy anymore. I keep going back to the image in my mind of when Janneke was first born. Words can't describe the look Ralph and I shared when we saw her. We wanted to rejoice, but we wept and wept.

This week, both girls are fighting another virus, yet their spirits are good. We have minor concerns with them, health-wise, but nothing major. We have noticed that with each virus, Janneke seems more introspective; she is less vocal and interactive with us. Her eyes move from place to place, but the small sounds she was making are fewer and fewer. Rachel is laughing a lot lately, but sometimes she laughs when she is in pain. It's tough to figure out if she is truly happy or if she is telling us something else.

I guess we can't swim in circles, worrying. But, it is important to be honest with the feelings of sadness, concern, and being overwhelmed. I find the more I try to downplay those emotions, the more I hurt myself in the end. It's okay to say you are unhappy. It actually frees you to find genuine joy instead of always "making it work".

I talked with my sister Jess last night. She was talking to me about walking outside - in the spring, you embrace the temperature of 10 degrees (C) because you know soon it will warm up. In the fall, the 10 degrees (C) reminds you that it will only get colder, and you are not so excited. That got me thinking another analogy (!): In our home, we don't know if it's going to get warmer or colder. With the older girls, we knew the stages of childhood and development. What about R and J? We are always moving from feed to feed, from med to med, without much pause for breath. When I want to look ahead to something, I am not sure what I see. The whole swimming-in-deep-water is tiresome when you are far from the shallow end.

thanks for reading.



Funny sides: Sophia just got a new helmet for skating. She loves the hockey helmet so much that she has been wearing it all the time. Her hockey-loving uncles will be proud to hear that she even tried to sleep with it on. Emily is learning to play recorder. Why the school insists on this practice, I am trying to understand. I just wish they sent home ear plugs for the parents. She is getting better - and our ears are adjusting.

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5 comments:

Rhea said...

Sara - it is totally OK to say that you are not doing well. I can understand that fully. When Olivia got sick I felt that I could not breathe, let alone function. I wept, wept and wept some more. Her doctors warned us that she would not make it to her first birthday and praise the Lord she did. Then came Anna, our total suprise, not a happy surprise to say the least. She was born healthy and I fell in love with her the moment that she was born. Then at five months old her neck was weak. I thought that she would outgrow what ever was happening and she did, so I thought. Then at eight months old she suffered from having encephalitis. Seizures, after seizures. Again I felt like I could not breathe. I was angry at life, not neccessarily at God, but I was mad. Why was this happening again. Did I not learn to be patient the first time around. I waited over 18 months to bring Olivia home and now what was my life going to be like. Well Anna is falling more behind in her development and I think about her future. Will she attend the same school as her siblings? Will she live with me forever? I don't have the answer, but I do have hope. Hope that God can heal her injured brain, hope that God will give me the strength to face each day. I pray for you daily and I do know what you are feeling. Hugs!!!

MM said...

So I started a comment 4 times and deleted each one. I can't say I know how you feel, since I'm not living it. But I do appreciate your honesty and hope that you continue to stay true to your feelings.

In prayer,
MM.

Grace said...

jason also brought home a recorder. My strategy is to have his practice when telemarketers call - very effective - they hang up on us now.

Thanks for sharing about life, Sarah. I appreciate your honesty.

Grace

Anonymous said...

I am unable to transcribe my feelings into words. Thanks for your honesty. Know that you are constantly in my thoughts and prayers.
BP

Anonymous said...

Here's a big hug all the way from Denver. Thanks for sharing. Please give the two little tykes a hug from me, OK. Not good news about that cast, Sara. I will be remembering you all in my prayers. I hope you are feeling God's loving arms around you, even when you feel down. He understands. SHALOM! Ruth