My littlest is currently battling through another croup flare up, the nights are long, the sleep is scarce and the tensions are high!

Tonight I am writing this while lying in my sons bed, listening to the ins and outs of his breath, the pauses that are a bit too long and the inevitable coughing fit that follows. This is the second night in a row I’ve taken up post in his room, my husband thankfully, no longer questioning or arguing with me about it, but not exactly happy either.

Whenever my children are sick with croup or asthma, my anxiety gets the better of me. The black cloud hovers closer than usual and lightening bolts of fear course through me. A few years ago my eldest ended up in hospital after a very bad asthma attack that saw her unresponsive upon admission into ER, I now have the same panic and helplessness haunt me with every cough that my kids have.

My husband and I have had our fair share of arguments surrounding my need to sleep in the kids rooms when they are sick, his case always being that they’d sleep better if I wasn’t there, that I’d sleep better in my own bed, that I’m being paranoid. Last year my son was admitted into ER during a croup attack in the middle of the night, I heard the early signs in his breathing and was able to get him to hospital before his oxygen sat levels got too low. All arguments about me sleeping in their rooms were officially over, well, until now.

In the early hours of this morning my husband came into my sons room after one of his coughing fits woke him, he told me to go to our bed and that he’d take over for awhile. Despite longing for sleep I declined his offer, he insisted again that I get some sleep as apparently I didn’t look so crash hot (a zombie is actually what he called me). The cocktail of tiredness and anxiety kicked in and I firmly said, “NO, he needs me here”, my anxiety turning my need to be there into the assumption that it was best for him too. My husband unfortunately, well, he took this to mean… he needs ME and NOT him and spat out “sounds about right, I can’t do anything, you don’t even trust me with him” and skulked back off to bed!

Any chance of falling back to sleep was now officially obliterated, my anxiety over our son had now been joined with the turbulence in the gut knowing that I’ve just gone and royally pissed my hubby off too. I lied awake for hours replaying my words and moved through every emotion from indignation to regret, I always seem to choose the wrong words, to pick the wrong battles even when I didn’t plan to fight. Somewhere in amongst my chaotic thoughts I realised that my words could of course be hurtful when not given context, I realised that maybe deep down I didn’t trust my husband to lie with our son, not because he wouldn’t do it right but because it would threaten my identity as being the carer. In a moment where I had absolutely no control, the anxiety clouded my judgement and my presence became the one thing I could control!

And so, it’s not about how the socks are folded, it’s about gaining control in a chaotic world. When we feel threatened, trapped, out of control, we fight for what we value, we regain control of the variables that are ours to decide, we push back against anything that stands in our way, we choose words that have sharp edges and use them as our weapons.

My goal is to face my anxiety blob head on, to acknowledge its presence and not let my need for control hurt others. Firstly however, I will talk to my husband, let him in, let him know that it’s not about the socks or who lies with our son, it’s about my anxiety and how that shapes a big part of who I am.

Until then…

I’ll be out there….

Finding my hummingbird