The man in the mirror

This is a difficult post to write.  I've never been big on self reflection, but I've spent more and more time over the past several months thinking about who I have become since Zachary was born.  And I don't like that person.  

I've always been pretty laid-back.  Never got too high or too low emotionally.  Worked hard.  Enjoyed my free time, even if I was just watching football or having a few beers with friends.  Tried to be a good friend, colleague, and husband.  Got along with most everyone.  Had plenty of faults for sure (no cracking wise from the peanut gallery, please) but I tried to be a good person and enjoyable to be around.

Not anymore.

I feel like I'm not the same person I was 16 months ago.  Now I am mostly tired, angry, frustrated, and generally better to be avoided, especially if you have anything to do with the care of my kid.  I find myself being rude, condescending, patronizing, dismissive, and outright hostile to some of these people, though in my defense sometimes with good cause. 

I feel like I don't even know how to relate to those who aren't intimately involved in Zachary's day-to-day care.  That's my life.  That's who I am.  That's what I do.  I don't have any free time to speak of.  And when I do, I'd rather crawl into bed more than anything else. 

My poor wife too often bears the brunt of my wrath, even though I can't imagine any mother more dedicated to their child's well-being than she is .  (She pumped breast milk for more than 16 months just so Zachary could get the benefit of all the antibodies and healing properties it contains).  She researches therapies and treatments for his medical complications and very often knows more than the so-called experts in their fields.  Zachary couldn't be any luckier to have her for a mommy.  She gets up early and stays up late to make sure he's being well cared for, even when a nurse is here and she could be sleeping.

And she does all this without my best effort, sometimes.  I found out last summer that I have this autoimmune condition called Hashimoto's Disease.  My body is making antibodies that are harming my thyroid gland, which is contributing to tiredness, weight gain, and a general slowing of body functions.  My immune system is also for some unexplained reason overreacting to little things like scratches or bumps and bruises, causing me to break out in hives and sometimes have severe swelling and joint and muscle pain.  I had to go to the hospital twice last summer because my airway started closing, so I now carry any EPI pen with me, or at least I'm supposed to.

I'm taking a bunch of medicine for all this silliness, a side effect of which is, of course, fatigue.  So Erin sometimes has to do everything herself when I have an episode and crap out, which happens every couple weeks despite all the pills.  So I don't feel well too often, which pisses me off and makes my generally sour mood even worse.  I'd like to blame my unhappiness on something or someone else.  But that would be a cop out.  No one is making me feel the way I feel or act the way I act.

I feel guilty that I feel this way.  We are so fortunate that Zachary survived his early birth and is doing so well, even though he still has a long way to go until he's all better, if there is such a thing.  So many parents lose their preemies after only days or hours with them.  And some are caring for profoundly emotionally and physically challenged children, who are never going to get "better." They are the ones who need the real help, not people like us, who in all honesty have it pretty good. 

So my challenge is staying positive and remembering that God has answered my prayers to let my little boy live.  Maybe doing that will help me not sweat the small stuff so much and start feeling better about the man in the mirror.