“Is she really burning up? Can’t we do something?” My partner’s frantic voice cut through the stillness of the night, barely audible over our baby daughter’s wails. After days of battling her stuffed-up nose with saline drops and suction, it was clear: her cries indicated more than just a cold.
My partner, Jack, who is an incredibly hands-on dad, was right to worry. He’s the one who gives the kids baths every night and keeps a watchful eye on them. But his questions only added to my anxiety, making it difficult to stay composed.
“Are you sure she’s okay?” he pressed, and I could feel my own self-doubt bubbling to the surface.
“Alicia, she’s in pain. Call the doctor!” His urgent tone made my heart race. I snapped back, “Just go to bed! I’ll handle this. It’s just an ear infection; I’ve got it under control!”
Yes, I can be a bit fierce when sleep-deprived—it’s not my finest moment. But after nearly a decade of parenting four kids, I’ve made enough late-night calls to know the routine. Unless it’s an emergency, I just need to hang in there until morning when the doctor’s office opens.
I propped myself up against pillows in a position that seemed to soothe my daughter, and as she nestled against my chest, we managed to steal a few hours of sleep. When I woke, the smell of fresh coffee greeted me—a small gesture from Jack that suggested he had forgiven my outburst.
Rejuvenated by love, gratitude, and caffeine, I got the three older kids ready for school and then took my sweet girl to the pediatrician.
“Wow! This one’s really something,” my doctor said, peering into my daughter’s ear. “She has a perforated eardrum.” My anxiety spiked. “We’ve had ear infections before, but not this…” I began to ramble, guilt pouring out. “I should have brought her in sooner, but she didn’t have a fever until yesterday. I just thought…”
“Alicia, she’ll be fine. You know better than to dwell on ‘should’ve, could’ve.’ This sounds worse than it is. I’m prescribing antibiotics and ear drops. Bring her back in two weeks for a check-up. You’ve got this.”
Relief washed over me. My child would be okay, and here was a medical professional who believed in my parenting.
My pediatrician is a mom too, with kids around the same age as my oldest. Over the years, she has provided me with encouragement and shared her own vulnerabilities, reminding me that motherhood isn’t about perfection.
On that morning, I reflected on our many conversations, distilling them down to a simple truth: “Motherhood is a complex dance between determination and surrender. It’s so tough to know when to fight and when to let go.”
She paused, clearly moved, and we shared a moment of understanding.
Years ago, when I was in an ICU with my son recovering from a burn injury, my pediatrician reminded me that my love and commitment to him were what truly mattered, not the circumstances.
In our quest to be perfect parents, we often forget that stumbling is part of the journey. It was during these moments that I discovered the power of love. Love carried me through the darkest times, including when I learned my son might not survive his injury. It was love that helped me cope with a ruptured eardrum diagnosis.
Returning home, I felt disheveled and overwhelmed. Still in my pajamas, I noticed the remnants of my daughter’s ear fluid had crusted—almost a badge of my perceived parenting failure. Instead of spiraling into guilt, I opted for a shower, a simple act of kindness towards myself, realizing that shame wouldn’t fix anything.
As I showered, my mind drifted to a moment earlier when my son, now 6, had comforted his sister, saying, “Mom, I’ll hold her.” His compassion, despite his scars, was a testament to the love we choose to show, even through mistakes.
Choosing love and forgiveness over regret can lead to remarkable transformations. I’ve learned that by embracing imperfections, I can show up with love not just for my children but for myself.
Ultimately, love is what empowers me to be their mom, and if we show up with love, we can navigate through anything. We’ve got this!
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Summary:
This article discusses the challenges and triumphs of motherhood, emphasizing the importance of love in parenting. It recounts a personal experience with a sick child and the realizations that come from vulnerability and support within the parenting community. The narrative encourages embracing imperfection while highlighting the strength found in love.