Contrary to popular belief, I did not go into motherhood blindly.
I’d had some experience with child-rearing. I’d done way more than my fair share of looking after my younger siblings as a kid. I’d watched friends of mine raise their own babies. I knew I’d be tired. (I had no way of knowing about the post-traumatic stress disorder-ish state that extreme lack of sleep can put you into, but I knew I’d be tired.) I knew there’d be frustration. I even knew there’d be sacrifice.
But what I really, really couldn’t imagine, the thing that would cause absolute horror to creep into my heart?
When I get sick, no one cares.
I am not stating it in a martyrish way. I can’t fault anyone for it. I’ve come to accept it as fact.
But when I get sick, I’m on my own.
No relatives to swoop in and take my kids away. A self-employed husband, and if he’s not working, I’m not eating (Although as I sit here trying not to vomit into a wastebasket, I really don’t give a flying fence post whether I ever eat again. But I have to believe that will change, soon). Volunteer commitments that don’t run if I don’t show up. And children who need me.
Man, do they need me.
They’re not inhuman little monsters, or anything. They’re not completely without compassion. But when I try to explain that Mommy is sick, they get an expression on their face, as if I’ve just told them that the GDP of Uruguay last year was $32 billion.
They’ve heard what I’ve said. They’re not disputing that what I’ve told them is a fact. They just don’t see how it’s germaine to their little lives, or how it accounts for the fact that the peanut butter sandwich they requested 2 WHOLE MINUTES AGO has not materialized.
So while I’m busy shifting paradigms to get me through this (I can leave the house a mess, I can screen my calls, and I can eat nothing but carbs because they’re the only thing that doesn’t make me want to hurl, because god dammit I am sick), maybe you should read someone else’s blog.
Because in the last little while, some people I know have written some stuff that will knock your mother lovin’ socks off (provided you’re in a part of the world experiencing sock-necessitating weather).
So while I’m having my pity party over here, go. Go read and enjoy and comment. I’ll be fine.
Don’t worry about me.