Motherhood guilt is a sickness

It’s a long time since I’ve been consumed with guilt by my own parenting. In fact many a month has passed since I have been tied up in knots of self-reproach and it’s been quite liberating. Admittedly it’s much easier to escape guilt when your child is a teenager and you aren’t invested in the squabbles and competitiveness of playgroups and online parenting forums, but still.

The thing is I was blissfully unaware of how guilt-free I was until this latest bout hit.

For the last two weeks my son has been whingeing that he’s tired. Usual times of complaint have been during homework, when we are about to leave for school, when it’s time to go to sport, on the way home from school… actually all the time – except when he was going out with friends when he would get a little rush of energy.

Now usually I am a very loving and patient mother (please do not check the “patient” part of this sentence with any member of my family) and I am well known as the mother-who-gives-her-child-the-most-sick-days-in-the-world, so I relented a couple of times and let him stay home from school. I cancelled a dentist appointment for him and I even picked him up from school early last Thursday.

But I think it was more about the fact that I am desperate to have him at home sometimes. Shhh don’t tell my husband. Or the school.

But the complaints of sore throat, headaches and exhaustion were getting to me. I worried that he had inherited my hypochondria. I didn’t really think he was sick because he was magically well enough to party like a teenager. Weekends were very quiet on the complaint front.

So I did what any mother in my position would do. I threatened him with the doctor. “Look if you’re really not well we should get it checked out”. I even added “you’ll probably need a blood test” for extra scariness.

My husband was a little tougher than me, he thought Little Pencil was being lazy – boy who cried wolf stuff.

Over the weekend my son texted, because of course he wasn’t home. He said had felt lumps in his neck. But don’t worry, he looked it up on Reddit (of all places) and he was cool. There was nothing to worry about, he reassured me.

I started to worry.

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On Tuesday the doctor called me to say blood tests were back. White blood cell count was low. Liver enzymes were high. “He’s sick” she said. “Go get him from school.”

An hour later she called to say glandular fever tests were in they explained everything. He’s got glandular bloody fever.

Of course the poor child was exhausted. He’s proper sick. The kind that blood tests not complaints show.

Little Pencil is still very tired even though he doesn’t have to complain to get out of school.

I feel ridiculously guilty. And unfortunately it’s quite a familiar feeling.