There is no worse feeling than your child calling out to you in the middle of the night. As you throw your covers off and head towards their room in a panic you know what’s coming…
“Mommy, I don’t feel good…”.
You pull them in for a hug only to discover that they are burning hot.
Cheeks flushed, hair damp and sad eyes that just need to see you and be assured that everything is going to be alright.
Being a Mom is not for wimps.
Putting on that armour and standing tall and brave when in fact you just want to crumble is no easy feat… and now let’s throw a Tylenol shortage into the mix and I call that Mommy Mayhem.
Seeing our kids sick is never easy.
It’s hard to watch them in pain or struggling and we just want to hold them tight and make it all disappear.
Well last night when my youngest called out to me and I felt her little burning body in my arms I felt a different kind of dread.
That dread that knew that the only bottle of children’s Tylenol I had on hand had only one, maybe two, doses left in it and although I had been looking for months, and asking everyone I knew to keep an eye out for me to have on hand “just in case”, I knew I was in trouble.
I gave my daughter the amount I had and drained the bottle empty.
My eyes filled with tears as I knew that this ‘liquid gold’ was the only way to bring the fever down and now my supplies were gone.
I called five pharmacies around that were open late and they all politely told me that their shelves were empty.
They told me to call another pharmacy in the morning who might be able to crush up an adult dose for me… but shit, that wasn’t going to do anything now when I needed it.
I panicked, then took a breath and decided to rally up my village.
It was 10:45 at night and I took to the powers of social media and a local Mommy Group that I belonged to and I pled my case.
Within minutes my feed was buzzing with moms offering me the one or two chewable tablets they had left.
They didn’t have much either but they were willing to give it to me anyway.
Kindness with no price.
My neighbour up the street walked down in her pajamas to deliver me two tablets and it felt like I had won the jackpot. She didn’t have to, but she did.
I was overcome with emotion for all of these strangers were coming to my aid in a time that I needed it most.
Strangers.
People I have never met.
People who do not know myself or my daughter.
People who read my plea and wanted to help.
Shit, there is good in the world… we might need to look a bit harder these days… but it’s there.
One woman messaged me saying that she had seen some on a store’s shelves hours before and although it was across town it was open until midnight and she suggested I go and try.
So, my husband set out, with cell phone in hand to keep me updated, and as he gallantly drove away I held hope that he would return with good news.
Sounds pretty dramatic for a bottle of Tylenol I know, but any Mom who has woken up in the middle of the night with that panicked cry can understand my dread.
Moms get it.
It’s like a universal badge we all have. We can feel their fear. We’ve been there.
Like a crying baby freaking out in the mall… it doesn’t phase us. We get it. It’s Mom code.
As my phone buzzed with a text from my husband saying that he had got it… I felt relief.
It was in that moment of hope that I realized how lucky we are.
How privileged we are.
How spoiled we are.
We have so much… but always want more.
We are lucky.
Blessed.
And yet we often forget.
In this moment I was reminded of places around the world that don’t have medicine that can help their fevered babies in the middle of the night.
Of mommies raising their babies alone, maybe in the streets, with no beds or rooves over their heads and here I was panicked for a lack of a bottle of medicine.
When I responded to my husband’s text announcing that he was on his way home with the ‘goods’ I cried happy tears.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
Tonight, I knew we’d be okay.
I had what I needed.
My daughter had what she needed.
We were lucky.
Blessed.
I learned two lessons that night in the darkness of my daughter’s room as I held her and waited for the medicine to kick in and her fever to come down.
The first one was never to underestimate the kindness of a stranger.
A village is built around strangers.
This Mom village had saved me.
Strangers.
Now allies.
The second lesson was to really try and appreciate all that I have, rather than what I don’t.
We forget that a lot.
We are lucky.
Blessed.
My husband joked that we should have bought all of the medicine on the shelves and sold it at a profit.
After all, with this dang shortage it is a hot commodity…. But No.
Someone else’s baby might need it.
Some other panicked Mom might be searching.
Crying.
Holding hope that the ‘goods’ are out there.
So we leave that for her.
Cause isn’t that what humankind should be about?
Just humans living this rollercoaster of life, with a village of strangers surrounding us, ready to help if we need them to.
If we ask them to.
Never be afraid to ask.
As Moms, we are never alone.
I learned that tonight.
As I kissed my baby girl again and again, feeling her burning body cooling off, I thanked my lucky stars for this life we are given.
The falls we all make and the people who help us up.
Motherhood takes a village.
I raise a cup of children’s Tylenol to you all … Thank you!
We’ve Got This!
@half_full_most_days