Therapy sessions always seem to get me a little down. When we carry on with our day-to-day life, it is easy to kind of forget that the whole lymphedema thing is here to stay, or even that it isn’t what everyone else deals with. The routine just becomes our normal. Doesn’t everyone spend an hour a day massaging and wrapping her baby? No?
I know a lot of people want their blog to be a source of inspiration for themselves and for others, and a positive place and (forgive me) blah, blah, blah. I guess I understand that, not wallowing and all. I’m not trying to throw a pity party, but I also want to keep track for myself how things really are. I don’t think it’s helpful to paint a picture that isn’t true. Life is just so confusing, really; and complicated. Confusing and complicated.
This is not complicated, but rather it is confusing to me. Why, when baby sign language is, you know, supposed to help with communication, is the sign for ‘t’ (for toilet obviously) used when no young child could easily make that sign? Are you waving at me, baby, or do you have to poop? Or (most likely) are you just checking out the fact that you now have control over your wrist movement? I guess I could just make all of my own up, but that would require a lot of mental energy that I don’t have.
Also, really what am I supposed to feed my baby? Everyone has a different opinion. Egg yolk, bone broth, only vegetables, no vegetables at all, everything and anything, no dairy, dairy, grains, no grains until after age 1, no grains until after age 2, no grains ever. Oy. I just read the no vegetables thing yesterday and I wanted to just chuck my iPad across the room. Juniper loves broccoli. I have to say, it’s probably her most favorite thing yet. She nods her little head up and down while she’s chewing like “this is good stuff, mama.” Now, of course, I know that broccoli is a goiterous vegetable and her eating it at such a tender age will probably give her a thyroid disorder.
Really though, these are all small things. Someone else out there is dealing with big things, and someone else out there is dealing with really big things. I know that. I also know that Juniper seems to find her Dad’s fuzzy hair to be the most humorous thing in the world, as evidenced yesterday by her repeatedly grabbing it in the (interminably long) Target checkout line and laughing hysterically.
|Please note: We are not Jewish and Juniper wore this onesie over the weekend. Daniel thought it looked coziest. Also note that it isn't tucked into her woolies.|