On islands, isolation, pilgrims, hermits & silence
I’ve been sick for just over three weeks now but yesterday for the first time in that whole time period I woke up and didn’t immediately want to cry. I’ve been much sicker than this and for much longer periods of time before now but this is the first time I’ve been properly sick (physically I mean ) since my son was born almost two years ago. That is, aside from a terrifying few days post vaccine. Being sick at the same time as the small person in your life is a very particular kind of experience. Trying to rest and heal when you are needed by the person you love most in the world is very difficult indeed. Throw in constant breastfeeding and your wee one refusing to leave your side, even to be with their other parent, and you have a fairly tough situation on your sick hands. This is something I didn’t understand about caring before becoming a mother: that there is never ever an off button.
Even if I were to have somewhere I could bring my son for a small time period when we were all so unwell, I’d have spent the whole time he was gone worrying about him and feeling guilty for not being with him. So we just carry on, mother’s do. We mother through illness; through worry; through uncertainty; through isolation and loneliness and so so much more.
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