Too much drama for one day

Yesterday I promised myself I’d do my best to be more positive and proactive in handling what life throws at me. Dear reader, I failed miserably. I spent the day at home nursing Maia who has got a cold. She was miserable and the medicine she’s having (just a decongestant which she’s had other times) seems to be having some very weird effects on her. Then again, it might have been just her not feeling well that made her so sensitive. It was heart-wrenching finding her in her room crying and wanting to be alone because a sad song on Charlie and Lola (which lasted the whole of 5 seconds) upset her. In the afternoon I spent over an hour at Martin’s having my neck stretched and massaged. Painful it was, but I can finally look sideways without stifling screams of pain. By the evening I was in pain, my throat started feeling sore and I was generally weepy. My husband took Maia to shower while I was preparing dinner and a few minutes later I heard screams of pain coming from the bathroom. I ran there (why do 10 metres feel like a kilometre in such situations?) and burst into tears (again). Maia had slipped in the bath and was screaming in agony. My husband, being a seasoned seaman and accustomed to assisting people who are hurt, kept his cool. I, on the other hand, totally lost it. There was no blood in sight, which was a relief, but when I saw the bruise on her back I immediately feared the worst. She had either broken a rib or had internal injuries. That’s what my panicked mind decided there and then.

So we took her to hospital where we were greeted by some very rude and insensitive nurses, had her urine tested for traces of blood and were finally told that all was clear. There were no internal injuries and by then she was calm and complaining only of a burning sensation where the skin had been grazed. The sample, however, did show that she hadn’t eaten much all day (very true) and so we took her to the only place that was inviting to her after her unpleasant experience…McDonalds. I waited for them in the car, decompressing (read sobbing my eyes out) and waiting for my ice cream to arrive. I felt like the weight of the world was on my sore shoulders. Ah the drama! Anyway, back home all was normal again except for my shattered nerves so I went to bed as soon as the little one had nodded off.

Today I woke up with a flaming throat, headache and a very sore neck. My morale was down in the dumps and I just wanted to crawl back into bed and sleep for a week. Then I remembered what I had written yesterday and also Martin’s words about being positive and decided to make an effort. So I played with Maia, we made scones, encouraged each other to drink more water and visited the doctor who confirmed that she’s on the mend and (for the umpteenth time) reassured me that the paracetamol I was having to control the pain was not in any way affecting the baby. He also weighed me (at my insistence) and declared that I have put on only 1 kilo the past three weeks! That was enough to change my mood. You have to know that the last time I saw my gynecologist three weeks ago, I found out that I had already put on a staggering 10 kilos (but the baby was a perfect size for its age) since the beginning of the pregnancy. I was so shocked that I couldn’t even write about it but I did pay more attention to the portions I was eating. It seems to have worked.

In other but related news, today I am exactly 20 weeks into the pregnancy. That’s half of it done and dealt with! Here’s hoping the other 20 will spare me some of the pain and germs I’ve had to deal with so far. And before I leave you in peace, I just had to share with you what Maia told me on the way back from the doctor’s: “I love papa the most”. When I asked her if that meant that she loved him more than me, she replied, “Yes, but just a tiny bit more”. If I have to be honest, that didn’t shock me so much seeing as this is where she’s been spending most of her time lately:





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  1. I am not one to comment about behaviour of children as I do not have any of my own however I do know that when I was younger and my mother used to be the one who said ‘no’ the most I used to think I loved my dad more because he used to let me get away with things. I spent more time with my mother than my dad coz he was working shifts.

    As I grew older of course I didn’t see things like that anymore.


    • Actually, he’s the stricter one! At the same time, he’s the fun parent. He takes her out on adventures all the time and generally gives her a lot of freedom (like jumping off the table). I guess he got the balance better than I did (and I’m glad he did). 🙂

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