I am in my own bed now, but I just returned from an overnight stay at the hospital. My husband drove me there last night because I was having chest, back, and jaw pain. That earned a night for observation. There were just as many signs pointing away from my heart as were pointing to it; the doctor was being cautious. As we were driving back home this morning, discussing our children, my chest began hurting again. Stress. Anxiety. Our fourth child especially.
We are countercultural. Homeschool. No television. No magazines that emphasize worldly notions of beauty or fashion. We talk about health, not weight. But my eleven-year-old came to me in tears a month ago because she could not shake the thought that she would be obese. My most fit, active child with the fastest metabolism. Eleven. She dislikes the way puberty is changing her body. She skips meals. She exercises... a lot. Eleven!
So. We have found a therapist for her. Got a physical from her wonderful pediatrician to see where she is. We've set realistic goals with her to gain health (and a little weight). And she came to me saying, "I'm starting to feel hungry again." I told her that was good; it meant her body was starting to work well again. "I hate it!" She broke down in tears. All I could do was hold her. There was nothing to say.
This has struck us broadside. Out of the blue. We were complacent and prideful, thinking our children may have difficulties but we had lessened the chance for certain types of troubles to touch them. But if my eleven-year-old can have a budding eating disorder.... We haven't sheltered them at all. Please God we have given them the tools to deal with difficulties. I don't think my heart could stand it if we haven't.
Please pray for us and for Monica. Thank you.