There are some days...

There are some days that I tend to forget exactly where we came from. But a couple nights ago, it hit me again, like a freight train. Let me back up a bit...
We have been battling ear infections. Main issue is that we can't treat Baby Man's infections like you normally would because he's had such bad reactions to antibiotics. There are only a handful you can give to an infant. So, we had tubes. 5 months later, we had the tubes replaced and adenoids removed. We are 5 days post surgery, and I believe it has helped. The jury is still out. But, and there's always a but, Angel and I have found our threshold for the amount of holding down and forcing our child to do something that he doesn't want to do. We are both extremely tired of having antibiotics spit on us. Tired of the screaming fit and hitting that ensues when we have to do the dreaded ear drops. Well, this makes tension just generally high in our household. The holding down of the Baby Man and forcing him to take meds, is just hard on the heart. Yet, we both know this, we both accept that we must do it for his own good, yet we take our frustrations out on each other. Fast forward to a couple nights ago. Im giving the Baby Man his bath. I can see into his room, where Angel is sitting waiting for the bath to be over so that he can man handle him and put the drops in his ears. We go back and forth, voices getting louder and louder, until finally Angel says, "Didn't you get tired of being poked and prodded when you were trying to have him?"
Short answer, yes. But I couldn't respond to Angel, as this flood of memories came back. So, I shut the door and took a breath. I imagined how damaged my arms looked from all of the blood letting. I remembered the rock hard sores in my backside from the PIO, some of them I still have. I remembered gaining 50 pounds, and being in the hospital barely able to breathe, by myself 150 miles from home for 5 days. I remembered being so scared most of the time that our dream would never come true. I would walk past a very dark, cold room and think there would never be life in that room. Oh, I went to a dark, dark place.
After my trip down memory lane, I composed myself. Got the Baby Man out of the tub, and hugged him ever so tightly. I said a heart felt prayer, expressing my gratitude to G.o. d for the miracle he bestowed upon us. And I realized once and for all, my husband will never truly grasp what I went through for our child. And I'll never fully realize what he went through from his side of things either. Maybe its just meant to be that way.