You Can't Make this Stuff Up

We interrupt the regularly scheduled programming of "Delivering Charlie" to give you a great excuse for the lack of blog entries.  Here is what has happened in the past six weeks, condensed in a very weathered nutshell:

-Charlie was very briefly but dramatically admitted to the intensive care unit for a few hours following his birth.

- After coming home, I was re-admitted twice into the hospital for treatment of a uterine infection, a nightmare repeat scenario from a couple years back.  I spend much of two weeks away from Oliver and Charlie, miserable.

- Soon after coming home, I was in the car with my sister taking Charlie to a check-up when we were rear-ended.  "Seriously?" Karen stared at me with a look that showed exhaustion, desperation, frustration but maybe a tinge of humor.  "Did that seriously just happen?  This month is, like..." she shook her head, "I swear. You can't even make this stuff up."  (Everyone was fine, by the way).

-After 3 weeks of strong antibiotics, I had a repeat CT scan that showed that my infection was still there.  This bought me two more weeks of the antibiotics, and a new wave of frustration and depression.  Would I ever get better?

-Week 4: Charlie develops colic.  Several hours a day of crying, cramping, and very little sleep in the Childe household.

-A few days later, Charlie develops thrush.  Back into the doctor.

-Last week: Michael and Oliver were hit by a drunk driver on their way home from daycare.  Our car is totaled, but my family isn't.  Michael is in a lot of pain, but comes home, and by the grace of our great God, Oliver comes home too with a mere scratch on his chin and a Beenie Baby from the EMTs in the ambulance. 

-A few days ago: Oliver comes down with fevers, ear infection, relentless cough and runny nose, and last night, vomiting.

-On Friday, Michael and I celebrate our 5th anniversary over take-out from Buffalo Wild Wings, wiping a toddler nose with one hand and feeding the baby with the other.  But we are happy, and we are grateful.  We are more than okay, and are celebrating the best five years of our lives.  I don't mean to smooth this all over with a fairy tale ending; but fairy tales you do make up, and this stuff, you just can't.  And I wouldn't trade our story for anything.  Happy Anniversary, Michael.  I love you.