Moms don鈥檛 get sick, right? We鈥檙e indestructible pillars of strength that just muscle through it and keep on going. 聽 聽After all, in my own crazy, screwed-up world, there鈥檚 a heaping pile of personal guilt to be had should we take a brief break for recovery.
Growing up, my own family didn鈥檛 really believe in a little sickness getting in the way. Dad once fell off the roof, flew past the kitchen window where I was washing the dishes, dusted himself off and carried on 鈥� like falling 20 feet and landing flat on your back on to a stone floor wasn鈥檛 a big deal. He鈥檇 hobble up ladders to paint the ceiling with a plaster cast on his leg, and needed to be heavily persuaded to put down the tools and head to hospital after a tangle with a tile cutter.
Dad鈥檚 bumps and scrapes seemed an acceptable part of life.
Mom, on the other hand, never got sick.
On the very few occasions when she was ill, my world felt like it stopped. I didn鈥檛 know what to do. The amazing woman who kept our daily lives ticking along was suddenly human with the ability to become so ill she had to (gasp!) lie down during the day time. I鈥檓 not talking simply flopping on the sofa and taking it easy. I mean heading to the bedroom (the door of which was shut 鈥� a gesture with such gravity that we instinctively dared not disturb her).聽
That she was giving herself the permission to put herself first for once was totally alien to me.聽
So, when the flu knocked me flat recently (not the stomach kind, just the regular one 鈥� but truly, that was bad enough), I spent the first 24 hours in denial, reluctantly taking medication because, really, I was probably just run down.
I rose with optimism on the second day, only to realise that it was going to take more than a positive attitude to shake it and felt awful guilt for asking my husband to stay at home, for a second day, to help with the kids because, really, I should just be able to cope.
Surely on the third day I鈥檇 feel better, so I scheduled a few work things and instantly regretted it when I got up. Still, it was the first day that I didn鈥檛 feel like curling in a ball and giving up, so it was a huge improvement.
What I鈥檓 trying to say is that I am my mom! And truly, that鈥檚 not a bad thing because she鈥檚 a wonderful woman. But I鈥檓 also a fool. I could have recovered faster if I鈥檇 just heeded my husband鈥檚 loving nagging to go lie down and stop making dinner or emptying the dishwasher. But that would have been admitting that I was fallible 鈥� something I鈥檓 still struggling with.
I was lucky to have my partner鈥檚 more-than-willing help (forget romantic gestures, it鈥檚 when you look and feel your most awful and are still loved that you feel the most supported).
Many of us in Squamish, though, are far away from friends and family, and support may not always be nearby. Sometimes we have great neighbours but other times, we don鈥檛. So, if there鈥檚 anything, anything at all, that you need help with, please reach out to our incredible network of moms. Or to me. We鈥檙e all facing the same struggles. Don鈥檛 do it alone. Just ask. Someone will respond, I promise.
