Mom Confession Part 2 - "In Recovery"

I cannot describe the amount of guilt and shame I have felt the past week.  After my last post about my “doctor mom” inadequacies (click here for a refresher), it all spiraled – his health, my shame, and our sanity. 

I am writing from Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital where my son is sleeping peacefully beside me in his Santa hat.  He got out of surgery 3 hours ago. They found abscesses in his belly, so there are now tubes draining out some mean ol’ bacteria.  We don’t know what caused it right now.  We are here a few more days for further tests and to make sure all the bacteria is cleaned out.

For the last week I have been telling my sweet boy that “this is just a virus” and “it will all be over soon” and “just eat or drink something” and “it’s okay to fart and poop yourself.”  I even went as far as to say, “Buddy, they aren’t going to cut your belly open again.”  Shit. Why did I say that? I’ll tell you why – because I believed it. I believed it was just a virus and that he was okay, and I desperately wanted my kid to not be afraid of the trauma he had already endured in Haiti (if you didn’t know – he had an appendectomy in Haiti right before coming home – potentially the source of these abscesses).  But I lied.  I didn’t mean to, but I did. I spent the last week convincing him and myself that he had a stomach bug that was being exacerbated by his fear and trauma.  And to be fair, that happens sometimes. It’s possible.

So now that I’ve admitted my mistake, it's important to remind myself I’m still a good mom. I may have misunderstood and misdiagnosed.  But I never stopped loving, caring, and looking for answers.  There was a reason I felt so tired, stressed, frustrated and lacking that “nurturing” mom piece. I literally had no possible way to ease the pain he was feeling. And as a parent, that is brutal.  I listened to my son cry out in pain “why, Jesus, why” for hours on end. I had nothing left to try – doctor visits, liquids, oils, meds, walking, breathing, sleeping.  If it was an option, we tried it.  So of course I was spent.  He was spent.  We were powerless.  I’m stubborn anyway, but especially for thinking I can fix something – and on my own.  So on Wednesday when he looked up at me with his tearful tired eyes and said, “mom, are you mad to me?” I knew it was time to let go. I was trying too hard.  Of course I was mad - mad that I couldn’t help my son. I said, “Buddy, I am mad -  not at you, but at the sick in your belly. We are going to call more people and figure this out.”  And with another call and dr visit, a CT scan was ordered, and here we are. 

I am painfully limited. And so are you.  I am also enough.  And so are you.  God did not make us to have all the answers. We cannot do this alone.  So even though my shame spiraled, it does not have power over me.  It is teaching me humility and humanity. I am doing the best I can do as a mama, and I am learning from my mistakes. I can use the guilt and shame as an opportunity to beat myself up OR I can use it to notice how I might want to do things differently next time.  The latter option is so much more compassionate.  We are all going to poop our pants as a parent (again, see my previous post).  I am cleaning up my mess as we speak.  But the reality is that I did do my job as a parent.  I got him to the help he needed. I persisted.  I didn’t give up.  I found answers I didn’t have.  I would like to go back and un-tell my son they aren’t going to cut his belly open again.  I can’t.  But I can use this opportunity to ask his forgiveness and model human imperfection and grace – possibly one of the most important lessons we will ever teach. 

Someday Wendy and his brothers Woody and Wilnes will read this and hopefully know how much their mama cared and how hard she tried – even though she messed up a lot. 

And hopefully you read this knowing you are not alone in your parenting shame. Hang in there, friends.  Let yourself rest in recovery.