It occurred to me, sometime on Friday morning, that this is likely to be the first Christmas in FOUR YEARS that I will not be sick or otherwise suffering.
Three years ago, Charles was 6 weeks old, had colic and horrendous diaper rash, and I was so sleep deprived that I didn’t know which way was up.
Two years ago, I caught a stomach bug that had me moving from bed to bathroom and missing out on all Christmas goodies, family, and friends. And then my poor brother caught it after Christmas.
Last year, I was pregnant and very, very ill. Christmas was the last straw before I called my doctor and sought drugs to tame the misery that was Jamie’s growing body.
On Thursday night, I got sick. Pretty violently, actually. Not stomach sick, thank goodness, but I woke up around midnight shivering uncontrollably. I was shaking so hard I thought my teeth were going to crack against one another. I forced myself out of bed to put on socks (I NEVER wear socks to bed) and a sweater and down some Tylenol – the rational part of my brain knew that I must have had a fever. An hour later, Jamie woke us up by vomiting the entire contents of his stomach all over me and Tony. I cleaned him up and then almost passed out.
Friday I spent in bed, Jamie with me. I lost my voice. My skin and muscles ached something awful. I am still hacking like a 30-year smoker. But. But! I am feeling much better AND I got the illness out of the way before Christmas, which means I will likely enjoy this Christmas more than any since four years ago.