I typically post on Mondays, but this past weekend I came down with flu like symptoms which then turned into laryngitis. I had one of the those weekends from hell where I wasn’t quite sure how I was going to make it out alive. Worst of all, on Saturday I started to come down with a fever and my husband was working. My daughter wasn’t exactly noticing my ghost-like complexion and my chills. She was too busy running around my house getting into everything.
A couple hours went by, and I wasn’t getting any better. I put her down for nap and came to the realization that I might not last another couple hours after she wakes up. I needed some help. There was no way I was going to be able to care for her and myself, if this illness got any worse.
So, I called my mom. Fortunately for me, she came as soon as she could with my dad. I was able to rest, and get a break. I thought I was feeling better so they left almost 2 hours later. Right around the time my husband got home. Then, like most illnesses seem to do, around 4 pm I started to feel a wave of sickness. I took my temp, and I had a 101 fever. Now what? For one, I needed to get my daughter out of the house. If she got what I had while I had what I was going through, life was going to be unbearable. My mother-in-law was suppose to come over that night to watch Sarafina so that my husband and I could go out. I immediately called her and told her not come. Then I asked her if she would consider taking her for the night, given my fever. Without skipping a beat, she offered to take her. My husband drove her, and I curled up into a ball and waited for my fever to break.
This series of events seem like no big deal. I was sick, and people that care about me stepped up for me. But, the whole time I was assessing the situation and thinking about what to do next, I was feeling some guilt about asking for help. It was only at the point where I felt like I was about to keel over did I make a call to get some help. I could have saved myself some unwanted heartache and called immediately. My mom and my mother-in-law were going to help me. It was just up to me to stop feeling guilt about soliciting their help.
I think that’s an important lesson moms need to learn when raising their kids. It does really take (at times) a village to raise them. I got pretty used to doing things on my own. I don’t really ask for help, unless I’m ghost-white and shivering. That’s probably not the best point to ask for help. I’m starting to realize that. You aren’t any less of a mom when help is on the way. You’re more of mom to recognize the humility needed to allow someone else to step in for a moment and take the reins while you recover.