Sunday Night Blog Therapy

I hate Sunday nights.  I think I'm allergic.  Every Sunday for a long time now I start to feel a little sick by the beginning of the evening.  The day starts out fine, but soon I get a yucky feeling in the pit of my stomach.  I start to feel a little gloomy and irritated, and I want to cry.  It doesn't matter what's happening at the moment, or what happened in the day - I inevitably feel down in the dumps by the end of the night.  Today I was enjoying a very nice family dinner at my in-laws house.  We were all sitting around, talking and visiting.  Everything was going great, but before I knew it, I was done.  I started feeling a little uncomfortable and wanted to go home.  I didn't know it, but it was even written on my face - when we finally left, James asked me what was wrong because I looked annoyed.  I was - but for no real reason.  It wasn't any of James family, who I are the best in-laws I could ask for.  It wasn't the company, or the conversation.  It wasn't the food, although I know I ate too much.  I do know what it was though - it was my regular visit from the Sunday night - have to go to work in the morning- blues.  I hate working.  I hate the feeling of starting a new week knowing that I didn't finish last week's work.  It's the stack of papers, a mile-high and growing, that still haven't been graded.  It's the 33rd student who will be added to my class in the morning, and the time I have to take away from Enzo to have two different parent meetings tomorrow afternoon. It's walking into the germ factory, the breeding ground of cold and flu bugs and who knows what else, so that I can bring it home to my house every afternoon. It's taking my baby to my wonderful in-laws, so they can help raise him for half of each day or more.   In reality, once I wake up Monday morning and go in to work, it's really not that bad.  My 4 hours of teaching go by quickly and I'm home before I know it.  But without fail, and almost always without even thinking about it, Sunday nights I end up feeling sick and down in the dumps.

Last Sunday though, I discovered a form of therapy.  In my typical paper-grading and other school work avoidance tactics, I picked up my computer and blogged about Enzo and all he was up to.  And by the time I was done, I felt a TON better.  So tonight I'm hoping that it works again - even though I'm not writing about so much fun stuff this time.  Tonight, I'm just rambling on my thoughts and feelings about life.

So if I hate work so much, why do I do it?  James' company is doing great, so much so that we don't really need the income of me working.  We worked and saved and prepared with the plan that after Enzo was born, I would finish out the year and be done teaching.  We did everything we needed to, and then Enzo was born - and of course, our plans had to change.  With James owning a small business, he can't afford to have a health insurance plan for his company.  And I have wonderful insurance.  And as we all know, we NEED my great insurance.  In Enzo's first year of life, he has racked up nearly a half a million dollars worth of medical bills.  And how much have we had to pay?  Um....$2000 or so - TOTAL.  His last small procedure, his cardiac cath and stent, cost $30,000 - and we only had to pay a $50 copayment.  We didn't even have to pay our deductible. So there is no way we can live without insurance.  We've looked into private plans, which are always an option, but not a great one.  Fortunately, thanks to ObamaCare, he cannot be denied coverage - but they can offer crappy insurance at whatever the heck outrageous prices they want to.  Can you imagine paying nearly $2,000 a month for insurance premiums - and then 20% of that $350,000?  Yeah, work might be doing good for James, but not that good.  So I went back to work this year, but only part time.  My half salary pays pretty much for insurance and our flex spending, and I don't get much of a paycheck.  And with insurance options what they are, we've started to think that maybe I'll need to keep working next year as well.

However, we've recently decided we need to have a little bit more faith.  We know that we've done everything we can, and should have done, so that I could stay at home.  We need to put the rest in the Lord's hands.  In essence, we need to stay, "We've given it all we've got, Lord - we need you to do the rest."  I'm reminded of a favorite song by Hillary Weeks, called "Give Ye to Me." "Give ye to me all that you have to offer, and I will bless it, and I will make it more, and you will have all that you need.  Though it seems there's not enough, I'll make the difference up, Give Ye to Me." So I think the plan now is for me to stay at home next year.  We can go on COBRA for 18 months after I quit working.  That gives us about 2 years from right now before we have to have another insurance option.  While it will cost us 102% of the premiums, it will still be cheaper than a private plan and I can keep my excellent insurance.  And we'll have 2 years to figure out something else for insurance.

Another thing on my mind is Enzo's upcoming cardiology appointment on Tuesday.  After surgery #1, we were told that his heart was potentially fixed for good - he could live a normal, healthy life with no other complications.  There was a small chance (15%) that he would have more obstruction in his veins (either from scar tissue or a defect with the veins themselves) and would require further surgery.  At his very next check-up, three months later, he became one of that 15% - with obstruction so bad, he was admitted that very day and had surgery a few days later.  After that 2nd surgery, his chances jumped to 25% of having further obstruction.  We made it through the next 3-month check up with a clean bill of health, but 3 months later found more obstruction.  The obstruction in one vein was so much that it closed off completely, and another vein required a stent to keep it open. So 1 vein down, only 3 more to go, with one already in jeopardy.  And here we are 3 months later.  His odds of further obstruction are now 50% - and we've only made it through one cardiologist appointment without ending up at the hospital. (And that was the only appointment where they didn't do an echo - so I wonder if they would have found the obstruction sooner if they had done one.)  So I don't mean to have a lack of faith, but I'm not hopeful for the outcome of Tuesday's appointment.  I worry constantly anyway, and add to that his cold that won't seem to go away.  He had a similar cold that wouldn't go away before the last appointment, with a cough and congestion in his chest - and it only went away after the stent was put in.  He's got another one - and I can feel it in his chest when he breaths, and it wakes him up at night (I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that's why he keeps waking up screaming) - but in the day he's fine and active and playing and healthy looking.  He's always seemed like that - healthy on the outside, broken heart on the inside. 

But some other thoughts that I have been having lately are lessons I've learned about my Father in Heaven from being a parent.  As a parent, we frequently put our kids through things that they don't like - often just things that are difficult or unpleasant, and sometimes things that are even painful for them - because we know what is best for them.  We make then cry it out in the night, so they can learn to sleep through the night and get the rest that they need.  We make them eat their veggies (or just make them eat at all) because we know they need the nutrients to grow and become strong.  And we take them to the doctor on a regular basis (some of us a whole lot more often than others) and hold them down while they get a shot (or worse).  Through all of these things, we hear our babies yelling and screaming, and we see in their eyes, "Mommy, it hurts.  Why are you letting them do this to me?"  "Mommy, I don't want to." "Mommy, please don't make me."  But we do it because we know it's good for them.  We have more experience and can see the bigger picture and we know what they need to become the best they can be.

Our Father in Heaven is just that - our Father.  He too makes us go through things that we don't like.  Difficult things, unpleasant things, and sometimes things that are downright painful.  But He has more experience than us.  He sees the bigger picture and knows what is best for us.  He knows what we need to become the best that we can be.  For me, that means I needed a baby with a broken heart to become the best I can be.  And when I've seen my baby suffering, and helped hold him down while he's been poked and prodded more than he should have to go through, when I've worried incessantly that I'll have to do it again, I have faith that my Father in Heaven knows what is best for me.

When Enzo had his second surgery and had a difficult recovery, friends and family, and their friends and family, fasted and prayed for him, and he bounced back.  There is a woman I work with who is of a different religion than I am, but she joined with us in praying for Enzo.  She told me that her mother's prayer group, who are in Florida - people I've never met - also prayed for Enzo.  I told her that I knew it was because of the faith and prayers of so many people that Enzo was able to recover and be with us still.  She said something along the lines of, "Well, yeah, but what I don't understand is why it doesn't always work - why some prayers are not answered."  I didn't know what to say to her then, but I know now.  It is because our Father in Heaven knows what is best - and for now, for me, it is for Enzo to be alive and kicking.  For me, and James, what is best for us is for us to have Enzo - a baby with a broken heart, who may always have problems, but who gives us a run for our money.  For others, what might be best for them is for their prayers to be answered in a different way.  I still don't know if maybe my baby might not live a full and healthy life.  Maybe he'll become a heart angel - and what is best for me will be whatever the Lord's will is.  And if prayers aren't answered in the way that we like, it's not because our Father doesn't love us, it's because he sees the bigger picture and knows what we need, even if we don't like it.  Even if it's painful, it hurts and we cry, "Father, please, don't make me." Because He loves us, He lets us go through things that we don't always understand.  And just like it hurts me to watch my baby suffer, I'm sure He hurts for me when He has to let me go through hard things.  But I put my faith in Him and know that He knows what is best for me.

So that's the end of my blog therapy for the night.  And it worked.  While I have contemplated and written about some serious and stressful things for the last couple of hours, once again I feel a million times better.  The pit of gloom in the bottom of my stomach is gone, and I'm ready to face the week again.  I'm not sure why I write - I know I do it for myself, and the therapy just of writing - but I also do it in the hopes that someone, somewhere might read this (maybe even myself in the future) and get strength from my experiences - that I can share the peace I feel with someone when they need it most.