“Is she overheating? Can’t you do something?” My partner’s urgent whisper cut through the night as our daughter howled in distress. The persistent runny nose of my 16-month-old had led to a sleepless night filled with saline and suction attempts. When her cries escalated, my maternal instincts kicked in: it had to be an ear infection.
His worry was understandable. He’s the kind of dad who takes charge during bath time every evening. However, his anxious questioning only amplified my own worries, making it tough to stay composed. “Are you sure she’s alright?” he pressed.
I wanted to block out both his voice and my rising self-doubt, but he continued, “Madison, she’s in pain. Call the doctor!”
At that moment, my patience snapped. “Just go to bed! I’ll handle it. It’s probably just an ear infection. Stop second-guessing me!” Yes, nighttime can bring out the worst in me.
As a seasoned mom of four, I’ve made enough panicked calls to our pediatrician to recognize the routine. Unless it was a true emergency, I needed to hold off until morning when the office would open.
I adjusted pillows to find a comfortable position, and my daughter nestled against my chest. With her ear resting close to my heart, we managed to steal a few hours of sleep.
When I finally woke, the smell of freshly brewed coffee greeted me. My partner, a tea enthusiast, had made this gesture, suggesting my previous outburst was forgiven. Fueled by love, gratitude, and caffeine, I wrangled our three older children off to school and then ventured to the pediatrician with my sick little girl.
After a quick examination, my pediatrician looked into her ear and said, “Yikes! This one’s really infected. She has a perforated eardrum.” Panic surged through me at the severity of the diagnosis. “We’ve dealt with a lot of ear infections, but never this!” I blurted out, guilt flooding my thoughts. “Maybe I should have brought her in sooner, but she didn’t even have a fever until yesterday…”
“Madison, she’ll be fine. You know better than to dwell on the ‘should-haves.’ This sounds worse than it is. I’ll prescribe antibiotics and ear drops. Just bring her back in two weeks for a follow-up. You’ve got this,” my pediatrician reassured me.
A wave of relief washed over me, knowing my child would be okay and that a medical professional believed in my parenting abilities. My pediatrician, a mother herself, has often shared her own struggles alongside my concerns, creating a bond over our vulnerabilities.
That day, I distilled seven years of our conversations into a single thought: “Motherhood is a tightrope walk between determination and letting go. It’s so difficult to discern when to fight and when to surrender.” She paused, her eyes reflecting understanding, and I added, “Showing up with love is what makes us good enough through both triumphs and failures.”
She nodded, clearly moved, and we shared a brief moment of solidarity in our mutual struggles.
Let’s be honest; my profound statement was really just a rephrasing of her wisdom. A few years prior, I had been in an ICU burn unit, supporting my toddler through a severe scald injury. When I questioned my worth as a mother, she reminded me that my unwavering love and commitment to my son’s recovery were what truly mattered. In her eyes, my presence and love, even in the face of his injury, made me a good enough mom.
These days, it can feel like we’re all striving for perfection in motherhood, and when we stumble, it can be incredibly tough to cope. That was certainly the case for me, but it was in those moments of doubt that I found love.
Love helped me through the overwhelming fear when I learned my son’s injury might be fatal, and it was the glue that kept me together during his painful surgeries. So when faced with the challenge of a ruptured eardrum, love was the lifeline I reached for.
Back home after the doctor’s visit, I felt like a mess. Still in my pajamas, I noticed my daughter’s ear had drained during our night together, leaving a crusty reminder of my perceived parenting failings. Instead of wallowing in guilt for not acting sooner, I took a shower, reminding myself that shame wouldn’t solve anything (trust me, I’ve tried).
Having endured my son’s recovery with scars that remain, I learned to embrace forgiveness over regret. Just like my partner’s thoughtful coffee, a hot shower was an act of self-kindness that shifted my perspective toward positivity.
This led me to recall a sweet moment from the previous night when my little one first began crying from ear pain. My burn survivor son, just six years old, offered to hold her. He cradled her gently against his scarred chest, embodying compassion learned through his own struggles.
If we choose to forgive ourselves and show love amid our imperfections, we may find growth in the aftermath of challenges. I’ve learned to extend that love not just to my children but to myself.
Ultimately, love is what empowers me to be the best mother I can be. We just need to show up with love, and I truly believe we’ve got this.
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Summary
In this heartfelt narrative, a mother reflects on the challenges of parenting as she navigates a late-night health scare with her daughter. Through moments of panic, vulnerability, and love, she emphasizes the importance of showing up for our children—and ourselves—despite imperfections. The story illustrates how love can guide us through the hurdles of motherhood, creating a path toward forgiveness and resilience.
Keyphrase
showing up with love in parenting
Tags
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