Here I Go Again On My Own

So let's address a subject that mothers everywhere have pondered for centuries....why do we get sick after having children? In the genius of creation, how come there's not some trip switch that is set off while giving birth that prevents a mother from getting ill? I hate to say it but, "It's just not fair!"

C'mon, you all know that you've said it at one time or another. Maybe it was the time you were puking into the tub because your kid was using the toilet. Or maybe, like me, it was the time that you were nursing twins in between running to the bathroom every 20 minutes feeling as if your feet were going to come out of your mouth this time....Maybe it was the time you had the flu and couldn't get off of the floor, but that was just fine with your toddlers as they thought you being on the floor meant that you were fair game as a jungle gym.

Today was one of those days. I'm not ill, per se, but I might as well be. I was looking forward to sleeping in this morning with the delayed opening for school. Instead, I awoke sneezing and subsequently screaming in agony. A silly, little sneeze threw my back into such painful spasms that I was unable to get out of my bed for over an hour. Now, I've been in labor. I've given birth to 5 children. The pain I felt this morning was right up there. My husband just kind of stood there with that sleepy, lost look he generally has in the morning, except I know I detected a bit of concern and helplessness in the slits of his eyes. I knew that I had to try to get out of bed
(after all before the sneeze of death, I was dreaming that I was in Macy's and I couldn't find a bathroom). That was easier said than done. On top of this, the time was ticking away for the kids to get ready for school. My husband was supposed to be going to work, and instead he was offering his back so that I could hold onto it and make it to the powder room. Of course the children couldn't possibly understand. The older ones are definitely more sympathetic, but the 5 year old and 3 year old are only out for numero uno, themselves.. Apparently oblivious to Mommy's Lamaze breathing and fetal position Charlotte and Luke were placing their breakfast orders and fighting over who got to choose what show was on the TV.

At this point, I start to feel a little sorry for myself. I'm wracked with pain, and I know that I cannot come first here. I have to tell my husband that it's OK to leave me to get the kids to school. I have to also encourage him to plan on going to work, because I know that his shop really depends on him. Incapable of getting myself to the bathroom, I need to take care of Luke, Charlotte and the various animals that need me here and I need to do it on my own. I know what you're thinking, I should've kept the kids home, told my husband that his shop would have to survive without him and stayed in bed. Maybe you're right. I just couldn't fathom doing that.

I'm not sure what it is that prevents me from really taking care of myself. Now, when I didn't have kids and I was sick, I had no problem planting myself on the couch with a mug of Cup-o-Soup and watched Little House on the Prairie reruns until I didn't know if my nose was running from being sick or from sobbing like a baby. Since I've had kids, it's as if I've forgotten how to take care of myself. I have this, let's call it, mother's guilt that kicks in every time I hear the hub-bub of my family going on without me. Maybe I flatter myself too much. I'm sure that they'd all be just fine if I stayed in bed for a day. I just don't know how to do that well. I could do it, if I knew that there was another adult who was going to take over. Alas, that's rarely the case here. Bill rarely takes off of work (unless he has the sniffles....don't get me started on that topic. Men+Sick=Bedridden), my mother in law works full time and my mother doesn't drive up here. I'd gladly let Bill take over, but he never offers more than, "If you really need me to come home let me know." Well, the hour and a half of me crying in pain, and the phone call from the bathroom floor didn't give you reason enough? Why do I hate to have to ask? I want someone to offer. That is my stubbornness and that leaves, me, myself and I. To complicate things further today, I had to get Luke to the Dr. as his throat started to hurt again. Maddie had piano lessons and forgot her folder and Gwen had dancing school. Again, could we have skipped it all, well except Luke's Dr.'s appointment? Sure. I chose not to. I chose to push, because I don't know how to do it any other way.

I finally peeled myself off of the bed and realized that crawling on all fours worked just fine for getting me from room to room. Of course the kids found it hysterical and the dog figured that I was playing and continued to pounce on me the whole time, pulling my pony tail every time I stopped to rest. As I expected, the choice to move around helped loosen things up and I was finally able to stand up. Too many Advil later, a hot shower, and a little bit of food and I was mobile enough to function. Albeit, I looked like the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Driving proved to be excruciating, but I knew that when all was said and done, I'd be heading to the chiropractor and that was the light at the end of the tunnel. The chiropractor x-rayed my back and showed me the problem. He turned me into a pretzel, jumped on me (I'm not exaggerating) and I found some relief. Dinner was waiting in the crock pot and I was finally able to sit without wanting to tear my leg off and beat myself with it until I was unconscious. My kids were happy, they were fed, they got their homework done, violins practiced, and most importantly they were felt loved.

So going back to feeling sorry for myself.....the whole time I was writhing in pain and my kids were either fighting or asking me for a. play-doh, b. chocolate milk, c. you name it, I couldn't help but feeling like "What about me?" I'm the one with the boo-boo here. I want my Mommy. Or at least my Mommy to take my kids so that I could lay down. How 'bout my husband coming home earlier than 7:30? No such luck on any of those. Then something wonderful began to happen. My kids prayed for me during grace. They asked me if they could help clean up. I got extra hugs and kisses. My husband came home and sprang into action, getting kids to bed and running to the store for me. As I'm typing this while lying on my back, he just placed a heating pad under my leg and is getting more Advil. Would it be nice to have the whole day off when I'm in such bad shape? Absolutely. That said, it's no less sweet when the sun goes down, the kids are in bed and I can allow myself to be taken care of. It isn't lost on me that I need to work on this. I know that I need to allow others to take care of me more and sometimes part of that means asking, no, demanding it of loved ones. This side of me is also indicative of my relationship with God. How many times do I need His help, but keep on pushing through it by myself? Sure, I can do it, but why struggle through it when I can step back and allow myself to be carried? Well, awareness is the first step towards change. Maybe this was a good lesson for me. Maybe you can relate.