Asher started school on Wednesday the 12th, marking the end of our "all the kids at home" chapter. Leading up to it, I was surprised by how emotional I felt...tears would spring to my eyes every time I thought of these tender years being over with him. Andrew was empathetic, but a little stunned by my intermittent blubbering. I'd attribute the water works to pregnancy, but have been my old stone cold self the last 7 months. My heart just felt heavy and my head swirled with questions: had I taught Asher enough? Did we make enough happy memories together? Read enough books? I started resenting every minute of idle screen time I'd ever allowed him, and felt desperate to make each moment of our fading summer meaningful.
Then Preston got some crazy stomach bug and was in worse shape than we'd ever seen him. After a vomit filled night, the following afternoon was Asher's Kindergarten preview day, where the kids go to school for a few hours with their teachers and half their class, and parents come into the school and meet everyone. I really didn't want Asher to miss the chance to acclimate, so reluctantly packed up a listless Preston and covered him in the stroller. Asher had no problem whatsoever with our leaving him with strangers in an unfamiliar classroom, which was a mildly painful relief. I wheeled our sick toddler back to the van, who proceeded to throw up all over himself, and fall asleep. I bought myself a smoothie and pretended it was alcohol.
I sat in our driveway and opened the sweet packet Asher's teacher had handed out to parents. The sappy note was a tsunami to the run-down surf shack of my composure. There was a time I prided myself on my emotional stability, but as I sat in my driveway crying and sad drinking a smoothie, vomit-covered child in the backseat, I realized "imbalanced" might be my new middle name. But how could I be turning my 5-year-old over to the state 8 hours a day, 5 days a week? Should I be homeschooling him? Would Preston even live to see kindergarten?
Since he had already had a blessing and was now at 24 hours without holding down any fluids, I called our close family members and asked them to pray. They were all so sweet about it. I let the poor boy sleep as long as I could before having to clean him up, change his clothes, and turn around to pick up Asher. Miraculously, he suddenly began talking and acting like himself. He held down some juice and continued to improve. I felt so grateful for the power of prayer.
Asher had a fantastic time at kindergarten preview day, and it put us all at ease. The night before school started, Andrew sat him down for a little pre-school talk and father's blessing. Preston was oblivious. I got choked up and took a phone pic.
Andrew looks a little papal here, but he was just counting off rules. Mostly "remember who you are" type stuff.
The first morning of school arrived, and Asher felt a little nervous, but mostly excited.
Love this happy boy.
The bus finally came, and just like that,
he was off!
So were all bets on my emotional state. Preston (who was screaming and thrashing around in the stroller after being unable to ride the bus with Asher) and I walked home and I started loud, ugly crying before we even made it through the door. I hoped the neighbors we hadn't met weren't watching. Conveniently, the unfamiliar sound of sobbing shocked Preston out of his fit.
Then I received a call from my OB's office informing me I'd failed my glucose test and needed to come in for the fasting, three-hour, three-blood draw test as soon as possible. I thought this was stupid, since I knew they'd taken my blood 8 minutes early, I was BARELY over the limit, with no family history, signs or symptoms whatsoever, and only 25% of those who test high actually have gestational diabetes. The nurse didn't think any of these things mattered, and pressed me for the earliest time I could come in. But what was I supposed to do with Preston for three hours?
The Relief Society president was coming over for a meeting that afternoon, friends from Ohio were due in for dinner that night, with more company to follow. I got an email from a member of the bishopric, asking if I'd speak in church THAT Sunday. Too much stress, too many feelings - I crumpled into a heap in the hallway and wept bitterly.
A confused Preston sat on my lap and tried to contort my mouth into a smile. "You not sad - you happy, mommy?" I took him up on every hug he offered and tried not to feel guilty for the very real possibility I was traumatizing him.
I was just struggling. Struggling with the idea of turning my child over to strangers for 2/3 of his waking hours, struggling to comply with a nurse's rigid protocol, struggling to fulfill inconvenient commitments, and struggling to accept a speaking assignment in a new ward with limited prep time.
But as I relaxed and tried to work through things one at a time, I realized there was a bigger lesson I needed to learn. Sometimes in life we need to fight for, or fight against things, but other times we need to be humble and submissive. Especially to the will of the Father. We try to live the very best we can, and when things crop up beyond our control, we need not struggle; we can be calm and feel peace knowing this life is meant to present challenges. Even with minor difficulties like mine, we can draw on the help and comfort of the Savior, and choose to be cheerful and prayerful, submitting to those things we must pass through.
With those thoughts in mind, peace flooded my soul.
It's been a week and a half. No tears since the hallway breakdown. Asher is loving kindergarten, although he complains it's too long. Preston and I are enjoying the one-on one time, however, and I am grateful for the next month or so we'll have to hang out together before the new baby comes.
I agreed to speak in church, but asked to use a talk I'd already written since time was short and we would be entertaining 3 sets of out-of-town guests between Wednesday and Sunday. They were fine with that, and I am grateful it was over quickly without hanging over my head long.
I also agreed to retake the 1-hour glucose test rather than the 3-hour, and happily, passed with no problem this time around. My little sister visiting from Canada was wonderful to watch Preston, and the whole thing wasn't so bad after all. I mostly resented the fact I could have had two delicious slices of cake instead of those flat, syrupy orange sodas. But cheers! We submit, we don't complain. :)
I am so grateful for a loving Heavenly Father who has blessed me with a full, rich life and even a semi-private forum in which to document minor upsets and honest feelings. Life is always good. :)
