“Are you having trouble breathing?” the nurse inquired over the phone. Just an hour after my first dose of antibiotics, my scalp itched and my torso felt like it was on fire. My initial thought was, “Oh no, not the lice again!” I rushed to the mirror, only to discover a massive hive stretching from my head all the way down to my waist. As I dialed the family medicine practice, I guzzled down every drop of liquid Benadryl I could find.
After receiving a 125 mg steroid injection, I returned home just in time to greet my kids as they got off the school bus, buzzing with a drug-induced euphoria. No need for a nap today!
This was only the beginning. My doctor prescribed a 12-day steroid regimen, and less than 24 hours after that shot, I took three pills on a Saturday morning. At the swim meet, I was a whirlwind—pacing the deck, cheering for kids I didn’t even know, volunteering to assist the stroke-and-turn judge, and chatting with anyone who would engage. Two fellow moms remarked on the stark contrast from the previous week when an upper respiratory infection had left me a sniveling heap, clutching tissues and sipping hot tea.
By day three, I felt like I could conquer the world. While the kids were at school, I tackled the laundry. When they got home, I curbed the impulse to strip them down and toss their clothes into the washing machine. The kitchen was spotless; no dirty dishes lingered by the sink. Cereal boxes were neatly tucked away in the pantry instead of cluttering the countertops. I had morphed into my mother-in-law, a woman who can’t relax unless everything is orderly. We were all a little frightened.
Day four kicked off with my volunteering at the kids’ elementary school. I had picked the hottest day of the year to supervise children dressed in medieval costumes as they jousted on the playground. Between the steroids and the heat, I felt like I was experiencing a mini midlife crisis. After returning home, I panicked about the impending end of the school year and messaged a friend: “I have exactly three days and about 2.5 hours until my kids are out of school for the summer.”
On day five, I opted for two pills instead of three. After waving goodbye to the school bus, I sprinted home and created color-coded calendars: purple for swim practices, yellow for my daughter, red for my son, and orange for the few camps they would attend together. I knew my days as Steroid Supermom were dwindling, but this binder just might help me continue to soar through the chaos. Around 1 p.m., though, the familiar urge to hide under my pillow hit me. Someone had stepped on my cape.
Days six to eight were a flurry of activity. When the kids got off the bus on the last day of school, I took them to see Inside Out. During the film, I laughed and cried—probably due to the steroids, but also because I caught a glimpse of the kind of parent I could be: energetic and organized. Pre-steroids, I was a blend of Sadness, Fear, Anger, and Disgust. Thanks to those little pills, I had temporarily transformed into Joy. But I could feel the end nearing; Sadness was lurking around, eyeing the control panel in my mind.
By day nine, I reduced my intake to one pill, though I compensated with an extra cup of coffee. My kids and husband went to the lake without me, and at church, I accidentally spilled communion wine down the front of my dress—oops!
On the first day of summer break, I packed swim and camp bags for each child and devised a plan for them to earn chore points toward an Xbox 360, diligently recording their progress in our Summer binder.
The final surge of steroid-fueled energy carried me through a meeting on day 12. One woman commented, “Wow, you seem completely different from the last time I saw you.” I explained my situation and added, “Tomorrow comes the crash.”
Nearly two weeks after my hive outbreak, I woke up to an empty pill bottle. When my 10-year-old daughter started grumbling about something at breakfast, I looked her in the eye and said, “Do you remember Sadness from the movie?” She nodded. “Mommy feels like Sadness today. You could drag me across the floor. I’m trying really hard, but I need your help.”
It took a few days to stabilize. Now the swings between Sadness and Joy are less extreme. The chronic pain has returned, and most afternoons, I find myself needing a nap. But the Summer binder remains, and perhaps best of all, I’ve gained a shared language about emotions to use with my daughter.
This piece was originally published on Aug. 2, 2015.
For more insightful content on parenting and home insemination, check out this excellent resource for understanding your options. If you’re curious about home insemination techniques, visit this link for authoritative information. You can also connect with us through this page for more tips and guidance.
Summary
This article chronicles the chaotic yet energizing experience of a mother undergoing a short steroid treatment that transforms her into a whirlwind of productivity and enthusiasm, only to face the inevitable crash. It highlights the emotional rollercoaster of parenting, the balance of joy and sadness, and the newfound language around feelings shared with her daughter, all while navigating the challenges of summer break.