I remember Christmas Day 1995. Karis was two years old. Meg was seven months old. Dave's sister had invited all the family to her house in the hill country for Christmas. Sounds fun, right? So early Christmas morning, we piled into our Suburban along with Dave's mom and dad plus two more extended family members, and headed out for the three hour drive. We arrived safely and enjoyed the day with Dave's siblings and spouses, parents, nephew and nieces. I have pictures of us playing outside with the littlies. It was nice. Then it was time to head home. All I remember from the ride home is that Meg would scream anytime she heard my voice. She didn't want to nurse, she didn't want to be held, nothing helped. Words like inconsolable and wretched come to mind. (Now that we know about her celiac, I bet I know what was wrong. Will the mommy guilt ever end?) And just as I was thinking to myself through gritted teeth, "This is TERRIBLE. What a STUPID idea. We are NEVER doing this again," Dave said aloud, "This was fun! We should do this every year!"
Different perspective.
Last night, Mom didn't call for me to change her at all. When I checked on her around 10:00pm, I found her changing herself. I asked why she hadn't called me, since she knew I would still be up. She said she was practicing. This morning when I took Mom her coffee, I found she had changed herself twice more in the night. She, her gown, and her bed were soaked with urine and smeared with waste. I was thinking, "Poor Mom! This is terrible. Self-changing is not working out. She will not want to do this again." After I cleaned her up, changed her gown, and stripped her bed, Mom said brightly, "I'm getting pretty good at this!"
Different perspective.
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