For the last few days I have been struck down with yet another version of this years attacker flu and I have really struggled to muster up the strength and energy every day to get out of bed and attend to Evelyn (who mind you, has also been hit!). But, every day, I find that teeny tiny little bit of energy that we Mama's just have to find and I put on my brave cape and I pull Evelyn out of bed and I spend the day with her. We have not left the house, the weather is not of the kind that two sick girls should be spending their days in. But we have been out of bed and out of our pyjama's every day... except today. Every day I try to parent to the best of my sickly ability. I may not give her 100% but she is ok with that, for now.
For the last few days I have been struck down by the stinging realisation that it really does take a village to raise a child, and yet, I dont have a village. It is Me, My Mr and our Evelyn. We have family, of course. But they are not readily available to call on for support on days that you cannot support yourself. Most live away. Some dont care to support and others are struggling with their own lack of a village. We have friends, of course. But as they should be, they are working.
On days where you really wish you could make that phone call, that one that I imagine would be so terribly hard, and say "I can't do this today, I need help", I notice a big gaping hole in my life. There is no one to answer that call. No one on the other end of the line. No one who can help.
At this point in time I am so overly dehydrated that, to stand up and walk, I fall over. I basically crawl from one room to the next while trying to slowly suck back as much water as humanly possible, while looking after a 16 month old active toddler who doesn't want to sleep. At this point in time, I would like to call on my village.
But I cant.
I do take solace in the fact that I have an online village, they lift me up with their words and their virtual support and hugs. They comfort me with their kind hearts and their beautiful souls. When things become too hard here, when I fall and hit my head, I load a photo into my village of Instagram and see my people come together. They leave words that make me smile, offers that make my heart sing, encouragement that lifts me up and gives me the strength to be my own village.
It takes a village to raise a child, but when you don't have that village, you have to create your own.
