Back in October, I had pneumonia. Mothering while sick is always a challenge, but that felt like a special challenge.
My children were also quite sick, though only one ended up with pneumonia, so we were all varying degrees of uselessness. Each of us would take turns fetching necessities and keeping everyone alive. I discovered groceries could be delivered to me, which was a miracle since very few places would deliver to my house. Even DoorDash wouldn’t come to my house.
Once the antibiotics took effect and we were over the worst of it, there was an incredibly long recovery period. It took about six weeks for my voice to get back to normal. Energy levels were similarly challenging, and I had a brief talk with my physical therapist about the necessity of consciously exercising my lungs during that recovery period.
In a society that functions because of the unpaid domestic labor of parents, mothers in particular, so things rapidly fall apart when the mother is ill. I still had to call the school to inform them of the children’s absence; I still had to order groceries, pick up prescriptions, and provide guidance for the less sick children to wash dishes, do laundry, or prep food. Even when I was riding in an ambulance to the emergency room for oxygen and fluids, I was thinking about the application I needed to finish to renew our Medicaid.
I don’t know how it is when other people are sick, but I often feel fully aware of what is happening around me. I hear the conversations and know what needs to happen. I cannot make my body get up and respond to the situation. Even as my daughter spoke with 911 on the phone, I wanted to get up and coach her through it. But I could not make my body move. (She did brilliantly, by the way.) I could tell about what was happening in the next room at the ER and the fact that the young female EMT had long blond hair in a ponytail.
Serious illness is often the result of an overly stressed body since stress weakens the immune system, leaving one more vulnerable to infections. I do not doubt that this was a contributing factor to my developing pneumonia. I just wish my brain could have stopped stressing as well. I wish I did not need to continue making sure myself and four other people stay alive when I am sick.
Eventually, I got some help (wouldn’t you know that all my closest friends and family were out of town when I needed to go to the ER!), which was a huge relief, especially when they offered before I could ask. Mustering up the energy to ask for help is almost impossible when drowning. What I really wanted and needed was to have someone notice I needed help and come swooping in with assistance.
It is hard to strike a balance between putting on a brave face and admitting I am struggling. I don’t want to come across as whiny or complain to everyone. Still, I also know that when I seem so put together and confident (I have been told I project a great deal of confidence, but usually in circumstances where I don’t feel confident), people don’t know I need help.
My therapist likes to tell me that “the village” is not for the raising of children. It is a support system for the mothers.
It takes a village
because no woman is an island.
It takes a village
in which we all share skills and knowledge.
It takes a village
of midwives and teachers, herbalists and gardeners.
It takes a village
to mend the broken bones and hearts, to share the burdens and worries.
It takes a village
to see people as human beings rather than human doings.
It takes a village
to go beyond consumption and economic profit to the humanity in all.
May this week bring comfort to your senses and your soul.
Having gone through a recent bout of pneumonia (with a nice dollop of sepsis thrown in), I can relate to the physical part and the frustration over the slow recovery. What you’ve provided with this is great insight into the worries and concerns you have as a mom and a single parent. I hope more readers see this, because you make important points here.