Fibronaut At Home shares her experiences of being a mother while living with Fibromyalgia.
Hugs shared with love, smelling of cookies and offered with arms softer than silk, hurt.
Cuddling on the couch, watching movies or reading books, happens less and less.
Every touch has the potential to cause pain.
Knobby knees and pointy elbows, need I say more?
Screaching, squealing, screaming, oh my!
Laundry and dishes, breakfast, snack, lunch, snack and dinner, over and over and over again.
After a half hour of cleaning, at the slowest pace possible, the job is incomplete and your energy is depleted, you hobble/walk to the couch only to hear “Mommy! I’m hungry!”. Up you jump/stumble to the kitchen. You hobble/walk back to the couch only to hear “Mom! So-and-so did this-and-that to me-or-us!”. Get the idea?
Disciplinary threats are ignored because those little stinkers can tell if I’m feeling too poorly to follow-up and they know for a fact that I can’t make it downstairs on…
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