It was the middle of the night when I heard my partner’s anxious voice cutting through the darkness, “Is she okay? Can’t you do something?” My heart raced as I cradled my 16-month-old daughter, who was wailing with a runny nose that had persisted through days of saline attempts and suction struggles. Instinctively, I knew this cry signaled an ear infection.
My partner, a dedicated dad known for his nightly bath routine with the kids, was understandably on edge. Yet, his questions only amplified my own anxiety. “Are you sure she’s alright?” he pressed. I tried to quell both his concerns and my own self-doubt. But then he urged, “Jenna, she’s in pain. Call the doctor!” That was my breaking point. “Just go to bed! I’ll handle it. It’s just an ear infection. Trust me, I’ve got this,” I snapped back.
Yes, I can get a bit fierce when sleep-deprived — it’s not my best look. But after years and four children, I’ve made enough frantic calls to our pediatrician to know the drill: unless it’s an emergency, we must wait for morning.
I nestled into the couch with pillows supporting my back, a position that seemed to soothe my daughter as she drifted into a calm slumber against my chest. With her ear resting close to my heart, we managed to catch a few hours of sleep.
The next morning, I awoke to the scent of freshly brewed coffee, a small gesture from my partner that indicated he had forgiven my late-night outburst. Energized by love and caffeine, I sent our three older kids off to school and took my little one to see the pediatrician.
After examining her, the doctor grimly announced, “Wow! This one is quite serious. She has a perforated eardrum.” Panic surged within me. “We’ve faced many ear infections, but I’ve never dealt with this before…” I blurted out, overwhelmed with guilt. “I should have brought her in sooner. I thought…”
“Jenna, she’ll be fine. You know better than to dwell on should-haves. This sounds worse than it is. I’ll prescribe antibiotics and ear drops, and we’ll see her again in two weeks,” she reassured me. A wave of relief washed over me; not only would my daughter recover, but a trusted medical professional believed in my parenting abilities.
Throughout the years, my pediatrician, a mother herself, has been a source of encouragement. She often shares her own parenting struggles, which makes her guidance even more meaningful. On that morning, I reflected, “Motherhood is a balancing act between determination and letting go. It’s tough to know when to fight and when to surrender.” She paused, looking at me with understanding, and I continued, “Showing up with love is what makes us good enough, whether we succeed or fail.” Her silent nod and teary eyes showed that she felt the weight of motherhood too.
It’s important to mention that during a challenging time in my past, when my son suffered a severe burn, my pediatrician reminded me that my love and unwavering support were what truly mattered. In those dark moments, I realized that love is what kept me grounded, even when facing overwhelming challenges.
Returning home after the diagnosis, I looked disheveled, still in pajamas, and noticed that my daughter’s ear had leaked overnight, leaving a crusty reminder of my perceived failure. Instead of wallowing in guilt, I chose to take a shower, recognizing that shame wouldn’t mend anything. Having learned to prioritize self-forgiveness, I decided to embrace my imperfections.
In a heartwarming moment, I remembered when my older son, despite his own scars, lovingly held his sister as she cried from her ear pain. It was a poignant reminder that love can teach empathy and compassion, even through adversity.
In conclusion, if we can choose forgiveness and love for ourselves despite our parenting missteps, we may find a transformation in the aftermath of our struggles. As I continue to embrace imperfection, I am learning to show up with love not only for my children but for myself as well. Love is what empowers me to be the mother they need. In our journey, we just need to show up with love — we’ve got this.
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