Over the past several months we have dealt with various health issues with Kyleigh. None of them very serious, but all building on top of each other begetting sleeplessness and crankiness. One morning last week--following a rather terrifying incident--as I was rocking with her, holding her, getting ready to lay her down for a nap I found this song running through my head again.
I made another doctor's appointment for her that day. And after all of these medical appointments--wastes of co-pays--that have ended with the doctor calmly explaining that she'd "grow out of it" and me in tears, we managed to see a doctor who actually listened to me. She listened as I explained how up until a few months ago this miserable, crying child was one of the happiest, most laid back babies I had ever met. She looked back over the records and reviewed what we had already been told and what treatments were prescribed and she listened as I explained that none of it made a difference. Kyleigh wasn't growing out of it. There was actually something physically wrong with my child. I was not being paranoid or over-reacting. Well, okay--I usually am both of those things, but I knew something just wasn't right. And the doctor listened. And she looked at Kyleigh. Really looked at her and examined her. And she diagnosed her and gave me an answer. One. Simple. Little. Answer. And a plan. A plan that consists of short term and long term goals--without medication. I left in tears again--but for the complete opposite reason.
Kyleigh is already perkier. Sleeping and playing again. So, hush you. You who say I'm a fretful mom. Shush, you. You who say I spoil my babies because I hold them so much. The only things in this house that are spoiled are lingering in the dark depths of the refrigerator.
Mother, O Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing, make up the bed,
Sew on a button and butter the bread.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
Oh, I've grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue,
Lullaby, rockabye, lullaby loo.
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo
The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew
And out in the yard there's a hullabaloo
But I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo
Look! Aren't his eyes the most wonderful hue?
Lullaby, rockaby lullaby loo.
The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow
But children grow up as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep!
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.
- Ruth Hulbert Hamilton
4 comments:
What an awesome song Dori. I couldn't help but think back when Kailea was so little in my arms and I kept her close almost always in my little kangroo pouch that I wore all the time. People would tell me "you are spoiling her", "she's going to be dependant", "she won't walk if you're carrying her all the time" etc etc etc......NONE OF THOSE THINGS could have been further from the truth. She walked at 7 months, was and is more independant than any of my other three and was and will be always close to my heart. Too bad more mothers don't take the time to "listen" to their children, even if it is unpleasant and inconviencing at times. :)
Thanks for your comments over at my blog. I'll add you to my police wives links if that's okay with you.
EOD-K9 sounds like exciting stuff! My husband is a Navy bratt, his dad was sad he didn't go that route in his life.
i hate when my kids are sick. It's hard. Hope she's all better soon!
What a beautiful lullaby! And I'm so happy to hear your little one is doing better :-).
I sent that to my MIL when Husband and I were first married and she mentioned to him that I "wasn't much of a housekeeper".
Which might explain why she's been out to visit once in 20+ years and we've been back there 3 times.
Ugh.
(saw you at Mrs. Fuzz's place)
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