Sometimes They Break Me

I’m feeling a little broken this week. I’m not exactly sure why. Yearly check ups for both Milo and Belle, perhaps. Learning that they’re not completely healthy always drains me a little. I mean, I am lucky. We are lucky. We have nothing horrendous to deal with. No diseases that would fall into the top 10 of really-terrifying-maladies.

A few days ago, while each child in turn sat on the crinkly, white paper, legs dangling, shoes off, I discussed with their pediatrician various health issues. For Milo it mostly revolves around allergies to a million things: peanuts, cow’s milk, chicken’s eggs, grass, trees, pollen, cats…the list goes on. This time of year he is constantly red-eyed and sniffling. Scratching and sneezing. I wonder if we have him on too many medications. Or not enough. Should I be taking him to a naturopath? Acupuncturist? Rolfer? Hypnotist? Psychic? Am I doing everything I possibly can to ensure his haleness in the future?

And then there is Belle, always my robust one, who has, in the last year, started exhibiting physical frailties of her own. Different doctors go back and forth on a Celiac disease diagnosis. She has speech issues and something going on that makes it difficult for her to breathe through her nose.

These are not rare things. These are issues that thousands of mothers have to deal with. But, this week, it all percolated to the surface. More blood work for Belle. Misery for Milo with pollen speckling the air and windshields and driveways like snow.

I am just a mom, sometimes (often) fragile myself. Especially when it pertains to the well-being of my two kids. I want them to have it easy. To suffer hardly at all. But I do know that too much good fortune robs people of their potential character. I know Belle and Milo have to get sick. I know they have to hurt.

But like I said, I’m just a mom. And I’m feeling a little broken. A little too affected by the fallibilities of my children’s small bodies.