So, here I am, battling what feels like a chest infection. If I’m being dramatic (which I totally am), it could be pneumonia, TB, bronchitis, whooping cough, or even the bubonic plague. As a self-employed mom of two, heading to the doctor is way down on my priority list—somewhere around number 57. Instead, I’m opting for self-medication and hoping for the best.
Last night, after an enthusiastic coughing session, I found myself reminiscing about the good old days—those luxurious pre-kid years when being sick felt like a mini vacation. Back then, I’d wake up on a Monday with a slight sniffle (and often a hangover) and put on my best Oscar-nominated croaky voice to call in sick. I would insist to my boss that it was in everyone’s best interest for me to stay home, and he’d agree while I silently celebrated my unexpected day off.
Of course, this was back in the days before everyone had a laptop glued to their side, able to work from their couch 24/7. I’d roll over, sleep in (remember sleep?), whip up a bacon sandwich (all in the name of recovery, of course), and bask in the glow of daytime TV until sunset—all while still in my pajamas. There were even times when my mom would swing by with homemade chicken soup, or my then-boyfriend-now-husband would call from the pharmacy asking if I needed cough drops or those fancy tissues infused with Aloe Vera. Ah, the nostalgia!
Now, though, I’m on my own. Having relocated to Spain, my mom’s comforting soup would likely spill during transit and arrive lukewarm at best. When I call her to say I’m feeling under the weather, she chuckles—not in a mean way, but more like, “Welcome to the mom club! I’ve been waiting for you to join.” After 30 years, she’s finally getting a taste of the challenges I once put her through.
She gently reminds me that as mothers, we’re only allowed to be sick while standing up. Forget about sympathy or concern; we can’t burden our families with the thought of a mother who might need a few days of rest—unless we’re really on death’s door, of course. Until then, it’s best to save the panic for when we’re truly incapacitated.
And my husband? He’s not exactly worried either. Just this morning, after a night of my honking cough keeping the neighborhood awake (I’m pretty sure they thought we were harboring a flock of angry geese), he suggested, “Maybe you should sleep in the spare room tonight. I have a busy day tomorrow and need my beauty sleep.”
So here I am, trudging through it all. After a week of wheezing, I dug up some leftover antibiotics—thank you, Internet—hoping they would be effective against this pesky infection. I’ve also taken a few swigs of some black tar-like cough syrup that smells and tastes like it came straight from the underworld. Neither seems to be working, but hey, at least I’m trying!
Now, two weeks in, I sound like a grizzled veteran smoker. I like to think this husky voice makes me sound alluring, but in reality, I’m just unable to hit those high notes on Disney songs—something my kids are probably grateful for. This afternoon, during a particularly violent coughing fit, I was on the phone with a client, my veggies boiling over, and my three-year-old yelling that she was “done” in the bathroom.
As I hung up and stumbled to assist her, doubled over and gasping for air, my five-year-old rushed in, concern etched on her little face. “Don’t worry,” I managed to say, clutching the towel rail for support. “Mummy is fine.” “I know,” she replied, “I just want to know when dinner will be ready.”
And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen—being sick, but still standing (or at least trying to). If you’re interested in more about home insemination, make sure to check out this great resource on artificial insemination. And for those looking to boost fertility, consider visiting this site for expert advice. Oh, and if you want to learn more about self-insemination techniques, don’t miss our post on this link.
In summary, motherhood is a wild ride, especially when you’re not feeling your best. Balancing health, work, and family responsibilities can be a challenge, but somehow we keep pushing through it all.