My boys last visit was back in April. 6 months old, 20 lbs and 29 inches long. He is just a big boy and not in a "husky" kinda way. He'll be taller than me at 5, I just know it!
But like any doctors appointment - it's not like you get there and have the joy of just going into a room, seeing the doctor - and leaving.
You get to wait.
My boy's doctor's office has two waiting rooms - the "sick" room and the "healthy" room - so I slipped into the "healthy" waiting room to find it already occupied by another woman and her son. She was my age and he was about 2 or 3 - and he was making her imaginary meals in the kitchen set up they have there.
We talked about the boys when she asked me what everyone always asks me, "Is he your first."
"When do you think you will have another one?" I wanted to say, when monkey's fly. I didn't.
"He's my only. We are only having one child."
Until that moment I don't think I noticed just how flustered she was. Her hair was a little messy, but not enough to comment on. It was more the air around her - it was almost chaotic and overwhelmed.
"I said the same thing once, Ethan is my second." A half smile was on her lips for a moment and then she sighed. "But I look at it like this. God doesn't give us more than he thinks we can handle."
With that she was gone. The friendly blond nurse whisked them out of the room and about 5 minutes later I heard Ethan as he received the terrible shots that are always to come at the doctors office.
I sat holding my boy - he can't really sit up yet and he wants to play all the time - so he was getting frustrated. It was about 15 minutes past his appointment time, but I just kept hearing her say to me over and over again, "God doesn't give us more than he thinks we can handle." as I bounced him on my knee, attempting to convince him he was having a good time.
He wasn't buying it.
Now, I'm not the God fearing type. I haven't been to church by choice in more than half my life. My spiritual/religious beliefs are complicated - to say the least - but still, I needed to hear those words more than she could have ever even known.
It's easy to get overwhelmed, to forget the bigger picture. I do it all the time.
And then it builds and grows into my sleep problems, or eating issues, or whatever else it can manifest into.
I don't know if there is a God. I don't believe in hell, but I believe in the devil. I don't know if someone or something is calling the shots in my life - but I needed that. I needed (and still do) to know that I can do this even though I feel like I'm carrying the world on my shoulders and it's pushing me backwards down a muddy slope.
Atlas ain't got nothin' on me! Not right now at least...
The combination of events in my life that have brought me to where I'm at this very moment have been jagged in the last 19 or so months. I do the "half full" - "look at the bright side" - "silver lining" thing daily and sometimes it holds - but sometimes I recognize it for the band-aid on the side of Hoover Dam that I know it is and realize my moments are limited.
Soon the adhesive will break free and then what?
I understood how that mom felt - I think that is why I could feel the chaos dancing around her, somehow her chaos and my chaos slammed into each other as Ethan conjured up pizza with peppers on a dirty plastic plate.
But now I know.
I know I can do this.
I know I can reassure myself in the flustered words of a tired mom.
And I know, that when all else fails... crap. I don't know anything!
Except maybe why Atlas has that look on his face, all, the, time.