I am struggling with shopping. I am struggling with my weight loss goals. I am struggling with not eating foods I shouldn't.
I need to remember all the times my children were sick. The days and days of them feeling miserable and laying on the couch doing nothing but watching T.V. in a daze.
I need to remember all the trips to the doctors office. Repeatedly over and over for the same infection. More and more antibiotics that got stronger and stronger.
I need to remember that even the times my children were "well" they were sick. So many times we couldn't do something because Benjamin had a headache or just didn't have the energy to leave the house.
The countless loads of bedding I washed.
The medication my children use to take every. single. morning. I use to make little towers out of the pills and inhalers to entertain my children. Why did I think this was a good thing?
Benjamin's mood swings.
Benjamin's tantrums.
Benjamin pretending to trip over nothing and pretending that he was hurt just for attention (so I thought - yep, a lot of guilt over this one still).
Worrying that I was raising a sociopath.
The trips to the emergency rooms with 105+ fevers, and one trip with a really low temperature.
The nights I would lie awake worrying if this round of medication was going to work. What would happen if they ran out of stronger medication to give my children before they got better?
Sitting beside Zachary's bed watching him sleep because he was struggling to breath with asthma and pneumonia.
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