Little Miss Deirdre kicked off her very first Christmas this past weekend with a visit to see Santa Claus. While we had tickets for our church's "Pancakes with Santa" celebration, we opted to sleep through the pancakes but still take part in getting a picture of our little one with the bearded guy in red. She looked adorable, (you KNEW I'd say that), and was the hit of the event (or so says her Dad.) Unfortunately, I was stuck in bed at home, nursing that silly infection I mentioned in Monday's post. I probably could have toughed it out, but I've regretted many a toughed-out activity in my Lupus-flaring days, so I decided to rest instead. Dad and Deirdre had a wonderful time, and they took several pictures to prove it. Johnny patiently relayed all of the details of their visit, taking time to explain everything that I could possibly want to know. His kindness in making me feel like I was there made me feel better - and Deirdre said she had a great time, too.
But, truth is, I'm surprised how hard it was to miss the outing. While I wasn't super sad, mad, or angry, I was more disappointed than I thought I'd be. Ever since the thought of having kids (post Lupus diagnosis) came into existence, I've told myself that I could still be an involved, participatory mom, despite the chronic illness. I assumed that if I was feeling a little crummy once in awhile, my kids would learn to adjust. They could crawl in bed with me to read stories if my joints were aching, or they would learn to like Chinese take-out if preparing dinner required too much energy. I once read an article where a mother of three said that those are the kinds of things that her kids DID do - simply adjusted to her needs, and loved her just the same, Lupus and all.
But I hadn't factored in what I would feel like, being too sick to enjoy my kids, their outings, or their events. While I know this was just bad timing, my mind still considered how unfair it would be if I had to miss all the biggies because of Lupus. But you know what? That's not a battle to be reckoned with today. Because today, my daughter loves me just the way I am, and that's what's most important.