[/caption]It started with a runny nose on Tuesday, which quickly led to coughing and wheezing Wednesday. That was the progression of Lotta's most recent cold. Wednesday night was the worst as Lotta developed a sore throat. Growing up with Asthma I have an extremely low tolerance for wheezing/breathing issues in my children. Wednesday night went like this--Lotta would finally fall asleep for say 10-20 minutes before waking up screaming, crying, upset, gasping for air. It felt as if I was being tortured as every time I would fall asleep, I would suddenly be woken up with extremely loud crying. By midnight, I was losing it. Then Lotta became so upset she started throwing up. Thom, being the super dad that he is, helped me get her all cleaned up and back in bed where she once again fell asleep for a short nap. As she was napping I was suddenly transported back to the night Ellie died, when she was struggling to breathe her last breaths. Ugh. I felt so powerless and frustrated and angry and sad with that longing for Ellie. I abhor these breathing challenges. I cannot stand them. I wish no one ever had to go through them ever. I had a really good, ugly cry right then and there as Lotta lay sleeping not so peacefully. When I was done, it was as if I had cleared out some extra junk. I was then able to be compassionate and patient with Lotta for the rest of the night (well until about 5:30am when I was reaching the point of exhaustion). I felt amazed that being able to walk through that grief allowed me to be more of the mom I wanted to be. I guess the fear is that if I allow myself to grieve I will be unable to be the mom I want to be. The whole thing was highly freeing and surprising.
Last night, Lotta and I both slept oh so soundly. As I woke up I thought how a truly bad night's sleep can give you such an appreciation for a good one!
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