I've been pretty quiet. Pulling back from my usual facebook oversharing. Because when you don't have something nice to say, and all that jazz. I'd been going through something that I didn't see as a problem until it became a big problem.
See, moms of 3 kids are supposed to be a little tired, a little mom-brained, a little wiped out. So for a long time I thought it was normal.
And then I couldn't get through the day without a nap. Even on days when I had very little required of me I was exhausted to my bones. I had never been so unreasonably tired. Not even when I was growing humans. Not even when I was solo parenting and coordinating a 5k and working full time. Never, have I been as excruciatingly tired as I have been over the last year.
When casually discussing my cudling, climbing children, I mentioned to a friend the lightening like pain I have when the children touch certain parts of my leg, back, and shoulders. The way their tiny little elbows feel as though I'm being stabbed. My sweet babies causing me physical pain. I thought they were just bony. My dear friend then pointed out that the kids weigh 30lbs and should not be able to bring me to my knees in pain.
The thing that made me really frustrated, the thing that made me sit up and notice that things weren't like they are supposed to be... my memory was disappearing. Literally losing words mid-sentence. Runaway thoughts hopping a train and heading west. I couldn't articulate thoughts. And I have good thoughts sometimes... they were just gone.
And just like that I was lost. I was definitely not myself any more. I couldn't be the kind of wife, mother, friend, that I had always been. Something wasn't right.
. . .
So I made myself an appointment after a good amount of procrastination. The first medical provider ordered bloodwork, said some not nice things when it came back(maybe someday I'll do a separate post about what not to say to a patient) and I told her I was not ok just waiting for more weeks of the same symptoms, so she gave me a medication and a referral. The medication started working and the specialist was a game changer.As soon as he came in the room and heard me he knew. He listened and believed me. He agreed that my pain and fatigue and brain fog were more than a nearly middle-aged mom being worn down.
I have fibromyalgia. I have a chronic illness that has no cure. Hopefully, I will be able to manage it well and my life will be minimally impacted. The truth is, it probably won't be that easy. The bad days are pretty bad. The good days are really nice. It's only been a few weeks so I am still in the throes of research. I'm still taking it one day at a time. I'm still learning when to ask for help and when to say no to things.
This is just another thing that we will take on our journey. We have God to lead the way. He will provide. He is our anchor.
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