I started writing this post early last week. It’s when I thought the world around me was coming down. Little did I know that there was much more in store that would push me into a deeper, darker, hole.
I try to put on a good face. For the sake of my kids and those around me, I need to be strong. Becoming a mom has made me such a confident person, and it’s with that confidence that I feel like I can take on anything. It’s made me feel invincible at times. But I’m not.
Last week I went home for a wedding in Tampa. My parents live there, so I decided to bring Macks with me and leave the girls back here in Connecticut with the girls. Our family dog had been sick the week prior and was in the vet ICU, and as much as we were all worried about her, I figured having Macks with me was a much-needed distraction for my parents.
The weekend went quickly. We had good news about our pup, but my dad, who was originally supposed to fly back with us to watch the kids while I went off on a work trip that following week, decided to stay behind to take care of our dog.
I ended up canceling my work trip and went about our usual weekly routine. On Monday, shortly after dropping the girls off at school, I received a call from my dad. Things with our dear Sadie was not looking good. She wasn’t responding to treatment and they had to make a decision that evening on what to do. Just five years earlier we lost our dog Callie, at only five years old, to cancer. Sadie was just five as well.
This couldn’t be happening again, not to my parents. Not to us. I kept my positive thoughts and kept a strong face, just as I did over the weekend. My parents and siblings were sad enough, the last thing they needed was for me to break down too. So I stayed strong. That’s what I was supposed to do.
That evening, while driving home with the kids from the gym and still awaiting that call from my dad, I watched a horrifying scene of a man getting hit by a car right in front of me. I called 911 while the man in the car tended to the man who got hit. It seemed as if every police car, fire truck, and ambulance in our town was there within seconds. I spoke to cops while still trying to shield the kids of what was going on. Again, I stayed strong. That’s what I was supposed to do.
But it wasn’t. Holding it in wasn’t helping. Sure it made me seem strong to others, but inside I was crumbling. Inside I was falling apart.
Not five minutes after leaving the scene, I stopped to get gas, stepped out and called my dad. I broke down. In hysterics I told him the story of what I had just witnessed, I told him how sad and angry I was over Sadie, I told him I couldn’t be strong anymore. I tried, I really tried, but I couldn’t hold it in any longer.
As any dad would do, he consoled me and told me everything was going to be okay. But at that moment, everything wasn’t okay. We were losing our dog, I just saw one of the scariest things in my entire life, and I felt completely empty inside.
The girl and mom that prided herself in being strong and confident, at that moment, was gone.
We lost Sadie that night. I cried for days. It would hit me in spurts. I felt so numb. Usually things like this wouldn’t affect me in such a way, but it was everything that I’d been holding inside for so long that just needed to come out.
As I waited for the week to end, it just kept getting worse. On Thursday Macks got a fever and started vomiting. I kept him in bed with me that night and kept an eye on him. He threw up a couple more times that night, so I made sure to take him to the doctor in the morning. Avery woke up on Friday morning crying because her throat hurt so bad, so not only was I making an appointment for Macks, but also for her.
The doctor said they both have viruses and to just help with the symptoms. Macks was on meds for the fever, while Avery was getting what she needed for her throat. Later that evening, as we were getting ready for dinner, I noticed that Macks felt really hot. Heat was just coming off of his body and I knew it wasn’t good. Despite the medicine to reduce the fever, it wasn’t going away. I took his temp and was blown away with what I saw. His temperature was 106.5 degrees. Higher than anything I’ve ever seen in my life. I was terrified.
I called the after hours nurse at our pediatricians office who told me to immediately take him to the ER. I rushed both of us into the car and just drove. My mind was racing and my anxiety was out of control. All I wanted to do was hide, cry, and pretend that this wasn’t happening. But I stayed strong. That’s what I was supposed to do.
The ER didn’t even make us wait and rushed us right into a room. Despite giving him medicine before I left our house, his fever was still at 105. They took blood, gave him cooling pads, and some more medicine to help get the fever down and we waited.
I’m not going to lie and tell you that I didn’t think the worst as we waited for those test results. I was terrified. While I tried to keep Macks as comfortable as possible, I just kept thinking that this was something bad.
His initial blood tests came back okay and the doctor told us that they would call with the other results only if it was something wrong. He agreed with our pediatrician and said it was still probably a virus and just to continue to treat the symptoms.
With fear, I took him home that evening and we laid in bed. He tossed and turned all night, crying in pain, while I gave him his medicine every six hours. Even despite the meds, his fever never went below 101 for the entire weekend.
For the next few days he just wanted to be held. He didn’t want to leave my side and only wanted his mama. He cried and whined most of the time when he was awake and the truth is I wanted to do the same. I was still so terrified. But I stayed strong. That’s what I was supposed to do.
Sunday night, after his fever slowly dropping, I put him in his crib to fall asleep. This was the first time in days that he’d been out of my sight.
I went into my room, and without anyone around, I just cried. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I couldn’t be strong any longer. My world was crumbling and the fierceness that had once been instilled in my was fading away.
Today, the fog from last week has finally lifted. Macks woke up with a smile on his face for the first time in nearly five days. Boy did I miss that smile. And I smiled today. I smiled not only because my boy was feeling better, but because I didn’t have anything kept inside any longer.
I’m strong and I can continue to be so as both a woman and a mother. But that doesn’t mean that I have to keep everything bottled up inside to keep that face of confidence. Crying and showing sadness and fear doesn’t make me any less self-assured. It makes me real.
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