Guilt & Forgiveness, Mom Humor, Self Love

Growing Through Crisis

Crisis: a time of intense difficulty, trouble, or danger.

Yes, there is a set definition in the dictionary for the term ‘crisis,’ but it has varying meaning for each individual. For me, a crisis is when my honey, my partner, my boo, ruptures his spleen snowboarding, spends his birthday in the hospital, and our toddler spikes a 104.1 temperature. Crisis.

Calm before the storm.
Calm before the storm.

If you were to ask me the day before said crisis, how I thought I would react to said crisis, I would have come up with a PG way of saying, “I would lose my s***.” Hypothetically, I didn’t think I would do well during crisis, especially when the lives of my nearest and dearest were in jeopardy. But, I’m shocked and pleasantly surprised to report that I handled the s*** much better than expected, and most certainly did not lose it; the hypothetical s*** that is, there is some very real s*** awaiting me in toddler’s diaper.

Back to the handled crisis at hand, we had traveled to Mammoth to enjoy the barely skiable layer of snow that had accumulated on the mountain. What happens when non-winter temperatures hit minimal snow in a winter-sports recreational hotspot (pun intended)? Ice is formed, dangerous ice. As we were sliding down the ice, Eric hit an especially icy patch of ice and unintentionally performed numerous somersaults. I witnessed this, and being the sympathetic lady I am, sailed past thinking, “Eh, he’s fine, I’ve seen him do worse.” As I waited, and waited, and waited some more, at the bottom of the run, my growing anxiety consistently heightened, until I saw him gliding down the mountain, unassisted. ‘Oh good, he’s fine.’ If those were indeed my last words, I’d label them my ‘famous last words.’

He pulled up in front of me looking a little pale, but “okay,” then collapsed. Not okay.

This is when “hypothetically” I would have lost the poo, but I didn’t, my mind cleared, my legs moved and I found medical assistance. I then filled out paperwork, traveled in an ambulance, filled out paperwork, waited for the results of a CT scan and blood work, filled out paperwork, and waited. All the while, somehow maintaining a calm, cool, and collected demeanor. I held it together, did what needed to be done, went back to our temporary Mammoth home, put the baby to sleep, and cried. And cried.

My being, my collective mind, body, and spirit had held it together until it was okay to let it go.

Always light at the end of the...
Always light at the end of the…

Throughout the following week of more hospital, healing honey, and fever baby, I got through it by attempting to follow the wisdom below, that people much wiser than myself have passed on to me:

-Honor Basic Needs: Eat. Check. Hydrate. Check. Move Around. Check. Shower. Check. Keep baby alive. Check.

-Take Care of It: Don’t dwell on the fact that there is a ruptured organ in Eric, an Eric in the hospital, and a really warm and perturbed baby attached to my chest. Take care of it. Make sure Eric has what he needs, comfort the baby, feed us, and fill out paperwork. Move through it Bailey, move through it.

-Release It: These circumstances were scary and far from ordinary. I’m not just not a robot, but not someone who easily represses emotions, sometimes to my detriment, but that’s for another blog post. I allotted myself a private hour at the end of each evening to cry, journal, or eat some leftover Thanksgiving pie, something cathartic. The catharsis transformed me from a pressure cooker, to a frazzled-hair, fairly stable, ‘let’s take care of it’ doer.

-Grow From It: I’ll be trite, and remind everyone that there is something to be learned from everything, even crisis. I’ve had a hefty dose of ‘life is fragile’ and have soaked in the importance of slowing down and really savoring all the amazing people in my life, Ruptured Spleen Eric and Fever Baby Hudson in particular. Going through crisis reminded me that nothing matters nearly as much as the health and happiness of my big and little honey, and myself. “We” rarely include the word ‘myself’ when writing the previous sentence, but how can we give anything good when we haven’t replenished our own supply of good.

Take Away: Live, love, laugh, eat, breathe, do, smile, cry, release, shower, and take caution when sliding down ice.

Fresh out of the hospital and on the mend.
Fresh out of the hospital and on the mend.

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