By Danielle Mahan 
I’m exhausted. Every parent is exhausted. Exhausted is the baseline once you’re responsible for someone other than yourself. Their lack of sleep becomes yours, their lack of peace becomes yours, their sickness becomes yours.
All these things are true even for the most well-balanced parent or family. Not to anyone’s surprise, my family isn’t well-balanced right now. I am an inconsistent caregiver, and for my children, this is the most traumatic thing they’ve ever dealt with.
I cope with my cancer diagnosis and treatment with a bit of stubbornness and denial. In my mind, if I’m still performing normal daily routines (getting out of bed, making dinner, caring for children, going to the gym), then I’m fine. In my mind, that means I’m winning. I’m not letting it define my life.
My children, however, are not coping that way, and I shamefully admit I expected them to. If I kept their routines the same, their activities the same, and their environment the same then they’re fine. We’re winning. We’re not letting it define our life. This is so unequivocally false. Their increase in behavior has been extremely triggering to me because every time they act out, I am reminded that in all actuality things are not normal, fine, and okay. And I’ve been trying really hard to be normal.
When my 7-year-old shows defiant behavior—I’m failing. I’m losing. He’s not okay.
When my 4-year-old refuses all her extracurricular activities that up to two months ago she loved—I’m failing. I’m losing. She’s not okay.
When my 2-year-old only wants me to tuck her in at night and refuses others, I’m failing—I’m failing. I’m losing. She’s not okay.
Admittedly I haven’t had enough grace and patience to understand that even though I may be coping well because of my experience, they may not be because they haven’t had that experience yet, and I haven’t taken the time to teach them. Life hasn’t had the time to show them what we all hope and believe, that eventually, I will be okay.
While we are, in fact, connected to our children, they are their own little people. I cannot control their behavior, thoughts, or feelings. I can only control mine, and again, admittedly I’ve not been handling that part well. Babies, please forgive your mama. Oh, God, please equip me.
As a wise and beautiful friend shared with me this week, right now time with me is their prize. After a particularly hard week, I lay on the floor and watched Bluey with my eldest two. They were calm, regulated, and joyful. It was the opposite of what I’ve seen from them this week when I pushed them too much and tried too hard to be something that we’re just not: normal.
Originally published on the author’s blog
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