Y’all, nothing shows the health of a marriage like sickness in the home. I don’t have scientific studies to back this up; no data or statistics. Just intuition and experience.
Flu & Strep, Flu, Flu, Flu…
It’s almost like a charming childhood ditty when you write it out like that, but the truth is that my house (and sometimes my office) has been like a Petri dish since Thanksgiving. Seriously. And it hasn’t been charming.
Little Miss with flu and strep. Superman with flu. Little Miss with the other kind of flu. Little Miss with strep and flu. Little Miss with a sinus infection. Then strep. And then flu. Me with anemia. Little Miss back strong with strep. Me with flu-like symptoms.
Add to this a juxtaposed battle of insomnia and exhaustion, anxiety and frequent dizzy spells from the anemia, and now a slightly elevated blood pressure in this preggo lady.
And that’s not counting schedules.
Scheduling & Sickness
School projects, tutoring, moms group, clubs, Bible study, church, extracurricular activities, Faith Formation, trainings, work, blogging, unpacking, cooking, cleaning.
The world doesn’t stop because we’re sick. Dang it. My house doesn’t stop creating dust and needing to be unpacked because we’re sick. Crap.
The onslaught of illness combined with the weight of our schedules has created a stressed-out, exhausted, pretty impatient (and slightly grumpy) Kristi, with only five weeks to go until Belle’s expected arrival.
On top of the normal household tasks in marriage, sickness adds layers of being homebound (which is suuuuuper frustrating), using all of your patience on the needy, sick child, and opting to cuddle instead of moving the load of laundry from the washer to the dryer.
This results in a tired husband coming home to take over, but the laundry still doesn’t get done, so you end up washing it two more times before remembering to move it to the dryer. By now, you’re extra stressed and exhausted, so you cry. A lot. And you somehow want to blame your husband for it.
Your Knight in Shining Pajama Pants
He goes grocery shopping and picks up ice cream for you, even after you protest saying, “No, honey, I don’t really need ice cream.”
He buys roast and makes it for you in the pressure cooker to up your iron intake to help you fight anemia. And then brings you said roast in bed. And he only eats one serving, despite the fact that it’s his favorite food after pizza, because you need iron.
He kisses your forehead, smoothes back your hair, makes the coffee, and lets you sleep longer.
When you ask for the umpteenth massage in one day, he does so (ignoring his cramping hands) without a word.
But the best? He does the laundry. Completely through, from gathering to putting away. And you melt, just a little.
Sickness Reveals Health
This, my friends, is marriage. This is dying of self to serve your sick kiddo; your anemic wife.
I’ve said it before and here it is again: in stress, it’s easy to listen to the world and play the comparison game.
Don’t go there, girlfriend. I know it can be easy to be sucked down the rabbit hole. Don’t.
My husband and I are doing just fine in this vocation and, actually, I’m super grateful that sickness revealed that to me.