As my lungs start to become more like...well lungs again, after four years of constant infections and unknown illness, I've had some time to think, and the more I think the more I feel...guilty. Yes you read that right, as I become healthier, more like myself again, thanks to some amazing doctors and some newish medications, I feel guilty. And not just your regular guilt but what I've realized may be the worst guilt of all, mom guilt.
Mom guilt is very real and quite simply may be the worst feeling in the world. As I look back at the past four years and think about just how ill I was and how much I missed, I can't help it I feel guilty, and then I just feel sad.
While I was at my worst, awaiting a diagnosis and pretty much living on a cycle of antibiotics, and prescription narcotics, just to function on the most basic level, my daughter, my beautiful little BAM wasn't even 1 year old yet. There were days where I couldn't get out of bed, too tired, and running fevers that bordered on needing to go to the hospital. All while my precious baby turned into a toddler, and began exploring the world around her. I missed out on a lot of it, as I lay in bed, or on the couch, and there are days now, looking back, that I really hate myself for it.
I am fully aware that I wasn't to blame and could hardly help the fact that I had all these lung infections that left me with little to no energy, but rational thought isn't really possible, when facing crippling mom guilt. I am forever grateful to my husband, my friends, and my mom, without who I don't know how I would have gotten through. On my worst days I would call my mom, who would come and spend the day chasing BAM around the house, all while I napped in the bedroom, or on the couch. Some days when I'd been put on bedrest by a random doctor, friends would swoop in and take her out for the day, allowing me the rest I so desperately needed to get better. But here's the thing I didn't actually get better, not until very recently when the stars aligned just right, did I start to feel better. So I'd given up that time, for what?
Of course there were days I would rally like the best of them and be there, be present, be me, or at least the closest version to me I could be at this time. Which really wasn't me at all, but an imposter who looks, talks, and kind of acts like me, but isn't me, not entirely. Because me is very active, very hands on, and in these days I couldn't be. I couldn't walk and talk at the same time, without launching into a coughing fit that made strangers give me that sideways look, like I was going to infect them all, and set the end of the world into motion. So any kind of actual physical activity was definitely out. It destroyed me to watch my daughter begging for me to play with her in the yard, and after about five steps I had to stop and take a break, with a gasped "mommy can't run" explanation, before she moved onto something, and quite often someone else.
Potentially one of the most heartbreaking moments for me, that I still to this day cry when I think about it, happened when BAM was about 2 1/2 years old. We were out shopping with my mom, as was often a thing we did on days off, we had separated, me going into the pizza place to order our lunch, and them going into the neighbouring dollar store to kill time while we waited for the pizza to be ready. It was cold outside and the store was warm something that often triggered a coughing fit, so when I walked inside I of course started to cough. I couldn't see my mom and BAM but suddenly I heard the unmistakable sound of BAM's voice "that's my mommy" she said happily and sure enough moments later her and my mom came into view. However something inside of me broke in that moment, my two year old should not be able to know who I am by the sound of my cough. But that was our reality, a crappy one, but our reality nonetheless.
Another thing that really stands out and makes me feel guilty would be some days where I was really bad, and could barely get out of bed, BAM would come in, in the morning bringing me a diaper or pull up and wipes, so I could change her without having to get up, she would then cuddle into me and we would watch Netflix until I had enough energy to get out of bed and go play in the living room. This may not seem like much, but this became a normal thing, and it was a way to do the things that had to be done when I could barely stand up, but it still makes me feel terrible, and like a shit mom.
Now though, my lungs are getting back on track although I still have bad days and get intense lung infections, but I feel almost like it's too late. At almost 5 BAM is in full day kindergarten and not home with me 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. So now that I'm feeling like I can participate and be present in everything she does, we're not together for most of the day. I do cherish every moment we do have (after school, weekends, and holidays) finding things we can do together that don't involve being cooped up and watching TV. Although we do enjoy a movie night almost every Friday. I still look back on the last 4 years feeling guilty and like I just want to cry. I really wish there was a do-over button that I could press and go back to all that precious time I missed, I know I was there, but I also wasn't there in so many ways.
Hopefully getting this all out and off my chest will help me to start dealing with it properly and not just crying every time I think about all that I missed out on.
What I really want to say is as mom's we tend to make ourselves feel guilty and terrible about a lot of things. most of which are beyond our control, like my health issues. However we do the best we can, with what we have, and I know I have a happy, healthy, well adjusted, beautiful little human, who thinks I'm doing pretty good. And that at least has to count for something.
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