Erin Everyday the kids are fed, the animals are alive, and the husbands can’t complain. The house looks decent. The fridge is never empty. The car hopefully is still running. The lights are still on. Somehow, we moms keep everything running. But are we running as smoothly physically? Who is taking care of us? I have been a mom for over thirteen years. I have faced many physical and medical issues along the way, but never as scary as the past couple of weeks.
I have sort-of-successfully kept up with all my kid’s shots, well checkups, and specialists appointments (I may have taken the wrong kid to an appointment once). My kids are in tip top shape. My husband is good to go as I constantly berate him about setting a good example, and not feeding the dog his vegetables at the dinner table. He thinks he is sneaky. My father fights me everyday, but I still manage to get three blood pressure and blood sugar readings each day while shoving all his pills down his throat (just kidding about the choking hazard). Even all of our pets are remembered as I make the appointments, get the shots, and express the damn anal glands because apparently that’s a thing.
My entire home is sure to live a long and healthy life. I, on the other hand, have had the same symptom for twelve years, and only recently went to the doctor about it. I do not want to go into details, but just know it is not pleasant in the nether regions. Being in the military, it is very rare to see the same doctor twice. Thanks to ever changing staff, and limited appointment times, spouses are basically put on the back burner. After months of being on the same meds, and calling in every month for my refills, my current doc was skeptical.
As I sat in the examination room, I was prepared for just an,” No worries, you’re fine, see you in six months!” Instead I was greeted with shooting pains after being prodded, and being told to expect another colonoscopy. The one symptom that my “mommy mind” felt was MY normal, apparently was terrifying to others. I sit at home now in fear, waiting for my new doc to call and inform me when my ass will be probed.
So many years, I have worried about everyone else. I have done my best (not always a pro) to make sure my family was healthy and decently happy. I have held my ASD son for every shot, convinced my hormonal teenager that she will not get fat by eating a full meal, bought a gallon of milk everyday because my five year old drinks like a lush, secretly fed my father artificial sweetener so he would not go into a diabetic coma, and shoved spinach in my husband’s eggs and hid it with cheese.
As I imagine having a giant camera shoved into the exit only, I have realized that sometimes I have to make it about me. I need to blow off that homemade meal for hot dogs so I can schedule those labs. I can be in the back of the car rider line to ensure I make that appointment. I can put me first sometimes, and not beat myself up about it. I have to be healthy to keep my family healthy. I do not put enough importance into my role. I feel as though my family could not survive without me, so why am I risking it?
