Omimax in the 90's blew us away, these kids today and their 3D, okay 3D is pretty cool too...

This illness has recently changed my life.  I can't drive. I don't do a lot because I'm on medication and I have a small child. I don't have a lot of visitors because most people work during the day and I live in the burbs so there isn't a lot of transportation options.  And even if I did there is currently a risk of having a seizure.  Again, sounds like complaining, but it's a reality.

Also, it's Christmas.  I've had to drastically change my diet due to things that trigger seizures. Limit wheat (by the way bread is just about my favorite thing in the entire world), no sugar, (say what?), no preservatives, (so nothing then), no artificial flavors, no artificial colors, no alcohol.  I'd say I'm pretty strict and stick to the diet anywhere from 90-95% of the time because I really really dislike seizures.  What does that mean? No Christmas cookies, no hot chocolate, no apple cider, no drinks, a lot of the festivities we typically enjoy are not happening this year.

Also, I'm not working. So a new financial diet for us this year.  Like I said, I'm not really into things, but being blasted email after email with holiday gift specials for the little one and having to restrain oneself...ah! Not so fun!  Good exercise in self control for sure, good reality check about what's important, but not fun.

And it's hard to hear that my mom is baking all day and families are out shopping and doing fun things and people are complaining about traffic and Christmas shopping and getting fat from holiday treats.  Blah, I envy you.

But that's not what was really the change in my life that was on my heart today.  I titled my post for a specific reason and my mother in law stopped by to visit after some appointments were cancelled yesterday and we had a really good heartfelt talk and it made me realize something about how this illness and God has made the biggest change in my life. But first some background...



When I was a kid, I LOVED going to the museum for a field trip!  But for all of the wrong reasons.
 I loved the bus rides because I could let my hair down and talk all the way there and not get in trouble.  I was also such a good kid in class I saved up all my talking for field trips!  I'd talk about and to boys and get goofy and silly because teachers were typically out of earshot.  I felt like I could  be more myself.  By the time we got organized at the museum I ignored most everything except for my ticket time for the Omnimax Movie Theater Show.  If you don't know what I am talking about it was a giant dome-shaped theater that made you feel like you were actually in the movie even though it wasn't 3D.  Sometimes there were roller coaster simulators or helicopter rides where you felt your stomach drop and you really felt like you were in the movie.  It was amazing!  The thing is I never, ever paid any attention to any exhibit at any museum I ever went to.  I was always waiting for the big show or the movie or the presentation.  I never read a single plaque.  I never spent time at the Natural History Museum learning anything that didn't require a worksheet.  I never paused to care about any of that, I flew through all of that.

And now, in my life, I have the opportunity to stop at each exhibit and read every "plaque."  I can ponder the significance, appreciate the history, marvel in the beauty and be grateful for the moment in time and the perspective to do this.  Each person in my life keeps revealing more and more to me as this journey continues and I am in complete awe.

I hate this illness.  I know I shouldn't say hate.  But I do, and I won't lie, I cried and felt sorry for myself tonight, because I had a rough week and the baby is sick and I got it too. But I'd be lying if I didn't believe that I wasn't being taught something here.

Each night while I was working, I put the baby to bed (don't get me wrong I LOVE being a mom), but I hoped he would fall asleep pretty quickly and stay asleep.  I rocked him a little and put him in his crib almost robotic-like because I was exhausted from my day.  Lately, I've been putting him to bed and I notice his breathing, I notice the hairs on his head and the sweetness of his face, and sometimes it's hard for me to let him go.  And I tell him quietly I'm sorry I'm sick and that I'll get better fast for him.  But he doesn't care, he just knows I'm Mom and feels safe enough to sleep soundly in my arms and doesn't want me to let him go either.

I'm excited to take him to the museum when he's older.  I'm hoping to teach him to walk by and take in a little more of the museums than I did. I really hope I can stay open to learning from this experience and not get bitter. I want to grow and I want to change in a positive way. I've always come away from negative experiences a little bit better and a little bit stronger. I pray this is no exception.