In the past month, Sofi has had scarlet fever, chickenpox, stomach flu, and now the latest another fever (she has a cold too, so maybe it’s related). I’m exhausted. The Christmas holidays are coming soon, and work has been piling up before the blackout season. Working while taking care of a sick Sofi takes its toll: the lack of focus, the dip in creativity and quality in my work. I’ve even had my fair share of 1:1 talks about it. But I couldn’t bring myself to say that managing a sick child while working has affected me tremendously because it would sound like an excuse.
I still want to be in the driver’s seat, to handle everything professionally. But sometimes, I feel like giving up. I can’t control the stress, the acid reflux, the indigestion, or the 2 a.m. wake-ups even after taking my “chill pill.” I fall sick last week (the whole week). My body is screaming in silence. I haven’t even had time to run. At the back of my mind, I’m thinking about all the projects lining up, demanding attention. Even on weekends, they hover.
And I am angry because I had to think about work while Sofi is sick. I want to be present while making paper gnomes with her or lying down to watch Ponyo when she wants a hug, or paint the next cardboard boxes to keep her occupied, without running back to my screen every 10 minutes. IT IS SO PAINFUL.
But this is the hard season. And hard season comes and go. It makes me resilient, sure, but it also makes me feel like shait. I know I'm fueling on stress hormones and it is not sustainable.
It’s rare for me to ask anything specific from God because I don’t always know what’s best for me. But this one, I know for sure: I need a village. I want a village. A whole village to help me raise my Sofi.
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