LIFE AS I KNOW IT: Here’s the thing, I got sick…

I’m not sure where to start. My brain’s been shut off for far too long. I got sick. Like really, really sick. And let me tell you, it really, really sucked.

I didn’t know what was happening to me. Suddenly, in the wee hours of the morning I’d awake in a panic. I was hot. Blazing hot. Sweat wasn’t just dripping off my brow, I was soaked in perspiration. And then I’d feel it. My mouth would go all watery and any second the vomit was coming. A few times I didn’t make it to the toilet – the sink was there first and twice I just turned on my side and puked on the floor beside my bed. I know, gross, right? Disgusting, actually. I couldn’t even help it. Then after the internal inferno and the barfing, I’d cry myself to sleep; in the fetal position, shaking and quivering and so desperately wanting for this terrible feeling to go away.

I was also tremendously scared. I don’t like the doctor. Never have and not sure I ever will. She’s not mean or anything like that. My doctor is beautiful and friendly and never seems to mind that anytime I’m in her office for some strange reason my emotions get the better of me (as usual) and I cry. But this illness was different. Something just wasn’t right. I wanted my mom more than ever before. Yes, of course, I cried for her a lot, too. Mostly because I needed her to come and take care of me.

And I didn’t just let the symptoms persist for a week or so. No, I really let them sink in nice and good for about three weeks. And then finally, one Monday morning, after just barely getting my son off to school, I called my aunt. I couldn’t go on. Physically I was exhausted, emotionally I was spent. I was certain of two things: one, death was near, and two, I had to make the dreaded visit to the doctor. I knew it wasn’t going to be good. The diagnosis still came as a shock. Bronchitis and pneumonia. Perfect. Hey, why not? After all I’m a mom. Can’t I handle anything? Well, the truth is no. No, I can’t. I just don’t have the time to rest until I’m better.

I mean it, I don’t chill. I’m always the last one standing. After the kids go to bed, I do a complete house clean: dusting, sweeping, mopping, cleaning the bathroom mirror, you name it. And whenever I get a cold, I just keep on keeping on. Nothing really slows me down. I don’t let it. I have too much to do. My lover is gone all day working hard to bring home the bacon and it’s my duty to keep the house in check. And when you have just a slight touch of OCD, the little things matter. Fingerprints on the sliding glass door, food on the floor, laundry that’s not folded and put away and let’s not forget that everyone’s needs have to be met too. I have to get my oldest kid on the bus, occupy my three-year-old all day, every day, and make sure his social needs are being met. I have to make breakfast, lunch, dinner, get groceries, empty the dishwasher, and on and on. As my man puts it so simply, I am the backbone. And holy sweet shit that comes with a lot of responsibility. I swear in my next life I want to come back as a man. I don’t know why exactly, I just do. I just want to see…

Here’s one thing I know for certain: when the mom’s down, the whole household is down. And when I was battling pneumonia and bronchitis, things got messy. Not to say my lover didn’t step up – he worked all day, came home, cooked dinner and looked after the kids. He totally realized what an intense job I have as the mom. (By the way, it’s a topic we’ve always had difficulty compromising on. Who has the tougher job? The mom who takes care of everyone including the household or the guy who gets up at 5:30 a.m., five days a week and works physically for 12-hour days every single day?) Suddenly, the organized cupboards became littered with empty fruit snack and granola bar boxes. Leftovers in the fridge become ooey-gooey and oh-so-rancid. The laundry piled up, there was dust in all corners of the house, and don’t get me started on what the toilet started to look (and smell!) like. A week of downtime and, oh man, I’m still paying for it.

But I had a life-changing realization when I was sick: I need to listen to my body. I’m always telling other moms, ‘Oh, don’t forget to make time for you.’ And the truth is, when I first got sick, I forgot all about me. I got so wrapped up in all the daily chorus and everyone else’s needs I completely disregarded my own. I didn’t rest, not for one second. And what I needed was some serious downtime. I was overruled by all my duties and obligations. Being that ill for over a month taught me a huge lesson. Sometimes it’s okay to hang up the mom apron and kick back and relax. Jeez, sometimes it’s absolutely vital. Without my good health, things are going to fall apart anyway. I learned the hard way how important it truly is to remember I have to take care of me, too.

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