By Monday afternoon at work I knew I needed something to carry me through the last hour and a half of my day so I ambled over to Starbucks {yes, I know... sugar isn't really helping} and got in line. I must begin by stating that I was in the "right" line. A group of Asian tourists had formed their own line {from now on known as the "wrong" line}. The lady behind me tried to correct them but, alas, they didn't speak English, and she gave up and joined them in the wrong line. I guess there's strength in numbers. Anyway, my point is, this little incident - not even really an incident! - just tipped me right over the edge and instead of joining the wrong line, I instantly found myself welling up with tears. I knew it was time to go home.
And so I did. I left work early, sped home, and went directly to sleep. By Tuesday morning, my body felt like a brick of cement. Seriously. I don't kid. There was NO WAY I could go to work. I barely dragged myself up to take care of P and praised the Lord that she miraculously napped 2x's that day - for a grand total of 4 hours of sleep for the both of us. When Chris got home, I crawled back into bed and rested again.
Late that night, when the house was quiet, I made my self a ginger root bath {recipe here} in hopes of sweating the sickness out. I slept like a baby that night {finally, my sinuses were cleared!} but when the alarm went off on Wednesday, I felt no better energy-wise. I was still moving through molasses. My eye was twitching. My heart was pounding. I was easily light headed. I was sooooo exhausted. I was a little more than depressed. I didn't feel like myself at all. I was anxious that this is what people refer to as a "rough pregnancy" and that maybe I would spend the next 22 weeks feeling like this! AHHH!! And then I'd have a newborn to take care of and still no relief in sight!! MUST. POWER. THROUGH.
On Thursday morning I woke up and made myself go to work. I was still not great. But worried that another day at home might do my emotions more harm than good. I might have been wrong.
By 9am I was in tears. Literally bawling {aka. making awful sobbing noises} in the bathroom at work. My tank was officially empty. Whatever super power I usually have that allows things to just roll of my skin had gone missing. I was like a piece of super-duty fly paper and everything was just sticking to me. Sad people on the sidewalk smoking. Rude people on the phone. Cars that cut me off. Loud sirens. A pile of stuff in my inbox. I had no reserve, no mojo, no protection.
I am somewhat of a trooper and although I came this close - - to just walking out the door again, I didn't. I went on a little walk to run an errand, said a little prayer, and made it through the day. Barely. At 4:30pm when I got in my car to head home, the tears just started flowing again. This time I let 'em come and eventually they stopped.
I am feeling better for sure. But my eye is still twitching every once in awhile and I'd still LOVE a nap right now. But, most importantly, this awful week taught me that my special cape of supermom powers that I take for granted can go missing. I think if I would have allowed myself time to just be sick and rest during the first week of my cold, I might not have gotten so exhausted. But, it's hard to be sick when you're a mom. Darn near IMPOSSIBLE! Sometimes you need to rally, I get it. But next time, I'm saying no. I'm going to lay on the couch and watch Matlock and sleep. I will take long baths {by myself!} and have Chris buy me some trashy magazines to read. I will know that my super cape is invaluable to me and must be handled with care.
I will not lose my cape again.
