Mommy Adrenaline

When my husband goes on business trips, I lie awake at night listening for the slightest noise. I know without a doubt that I have locked the doors & I’ve checked windows ten times. I purposely left on all of the lights, and the televisions. Even after all of the preparation, my heart completely stops beating at the slightest huff from one of our two dogs. Every worst case scenario plays out in my mind. When I was younger, I would lie in my bed after having nightmares of intruders & practice ‘playing dead.’ I would lay there and see how long I could go without breathing so the bad guy would think, “Oh, this girl is already dead; we might as well just go home now.” I would find hiding spots all over the house- I always had an escape plan. Now my mind races with endless horrid thoughts, so much worse than the ones from my childhood. How could I ever escape with three kids in tow? What could I use as a weapon? How could I protect them? I considered buying some wasp spray just in case so I could at least knock someone off their kilter. I was far too apprehensive to use any kind of bat, or knife, or anything that could be turned back against me. The dread is so paralyzing I had to stop watching 48 Hours Mystery and Dateline… even the 6 o'clock news. Paranoia only got worse with children as suddenly it was not myself that I was concerned for anymore. Even as I’m writing this I’m thinking… Who is going to read this? They already know too much! This brings me to a defining moment in my life that changed my way of thinking forever. It was the exact instant that I had to decide if I was going to hide under my sheets, or pull the wasp spray out, put on my big girl panties, & prepare for battle. Asher was only four months old. We were going on a month of sleepless nights. He would pull his legs up into his chest & cry in pain and we could not figure out what was wrong with him, or how to help. The sleep deprivation was making me walk into walls, and yell curse words at inanimate objects. A red leathery eczema rash blanketed Asher’s body from head to toe. We must have bought seven different lotions trying to appease his desire to itch. He slept with mittens on. We limited his baths to lukewarm water only for 10 minutes each night. We googled every home remedy there was. We got rid of any ‘smelly good’ laundry items, or lotions and kept him dressed in only cotton. He was like a greased up pig at all times, nearly impossible to hold without slipping out of your arms. I took him to the doctor three different times. Each time I just knew they were putting me down on a ‘that mom’ list, as if I was just another hypochondriac mother. They continued to increase the topical steroid and gave us a liquid medication that would help with his itching at night. Finally on the 4th visit... I had mentioned his weight continually decreasing. He lost 1.5 lbs in 3 weeks. After a few allergy tests were done, it was confirmed; my son had an allergy to the milk protein in cow milk. You would have thought it was a death sentence for me. I researched the hypoallergenic formula- it would cost us $75 a week. I had just quit my job of 7 years a month before all of this, and we were depending on my nursing to supplement some of our income loss. I figured it was at least worth trying, murmured the serenity prayer & right then vowed to not let dairy touch my lips until Asher was at least 6 months old. I was like a lost puppy dog at the grocery store. I needed to develop an immediate plan of action. What do people eat when they don't buy four bags of shredded cheese a week to hold their casserole together? My vegan friends reached out to me. “It’s not that bad!” they encouraged. I pressed on, but after the first week I was so overly emotional about everyone else being allowed to eat deliciousness that I had a complete melt down to my husband in the kitchen one day. “I just can’t do this. I can’t watch you at Easter this Sunday eating my grandma’s mashed potatoes!” I blurted. My husband, as if it were no big deal, didn’t even bat a lash, “O.K. I’ll do it with you.” After a week, I was ready to climb Mt. Everest for a piece of chocolate. I have grown accustomed to just having one small piece after each meal. I searched every aisle of the grocery store, reading label after label, beckoning three different store employees for help, desperately seeking some kind of dairy free chocolate. Alas, I settled on some soy faux Oreos. They were $4.99 for a handful in the health food section. Highway robbery, but at that point, I would have traded my first born for them. I got home and my husband and I were anticipating a new hope. I took one bite.... he took one bite... it was everything you imagined sawdust to be. Nothing resembled a chocolate taste. It was definitely not the milky sweet richness of what I was craving. It was a few weeks later when I found out real Oreos are on the accidentally vegan list and I could have had them all along. Seriously?! Certain foods I had to give up altogether. What was a burger without cheddar? What is a pizza without mozzarella? What is spaghetti without parmesan? I substituted rice milk for cow milk in almost everything. I found a butter that I could withstand. But my heart longed for the intangible. I dreamt about clouds made of Gouda... trees with feta where berries would grow... rivers of Velveeta. Everyone told me about all of the weight I would lose. You would think when you stop dipping every single thing in ranch dressing that surely you would lose some weight. Not me though. I had to fill a void. I replaced almost everything with chicken wings and french fries. For two long months that was almost all that I ate. I wasn't gaining but I certainly wasn't losing. I took my ‘new life’ day by day, checking each one off on the calendar. At times I wondered if God was punishing me. Doesn’t he know how I feel about cream cheese? Maybe this is what withdraw is. Had I really grown that dependent on my sour cream? A relapse would be comparable to punching my baby in the face so it just wasn’t an option. My road to recovery began on March 6th, 2013. It was one of those unusual hot spring days. The kids were out in the neighborhood playing. Asher and I sat on my front porch swing watching our girls draw on the sidewalk with chalk. I looked at my beautiful boy... suddenly healthy. His skin was soft and his breath was sweet. His little face was starting to fill out and he was well rested. I couldn't believe that I had actually made it to the six month goal. I silently thanked God for these beautiful healthy children…and in an instant, I looked up from my son, and off in the distance, I saw a little white truck headed toward us. I could hear music getting louder and louder as it neared us. Could that be what I think it is? I had butterflies in my stomach & goose bumps on my arms. A sound I had resented so many times before, but this time...it was nothing but pure joy. The heavens opened up and birds started singing. It was as if I was 8 years old again. I rushed inside & pulled out a $5 bill from my purse. I quickly gave it to the oldest. “Better make it THREE drumsticks this time Sis.” All of those sleepless nights worrying about what I would do in the event of emergency to protect my kids from harm were wasted. The bottom line is, when you’re up against a wall- your maternal instinct will somehow someway kick in & you will do everything within your power for them. You will make the impossible possible. This is how Mothers run into burning buildings; This is how Mothers pick up a 500 pound bus; This is how Mothers use their body as a human shield from gunfire; This is how Mothers keep their kids alive for weeks in a snowed in car on nothing but ketchup packets; and this of course… is how Mothers give up cheese.