Sometime in the beginning of November I stopped sleeping. I thought it was just a one night fluke, terrible but manageable. Then the next night I didn't sleep again. On the fifth night without sleep I went to the doctor and mentioned I had some insomnia. He gave me medicine to try. It worked for two days. Then I doubled the dose and it didn't work at all. I wondered if maybe it was the soreness of pregnancy. That's what kept me up a bit last time. But even with the super duper relaxing medicine plus the sleep aid I got nothing. I fell asleep for like fifteen minutes and then was up the rest of the night. I felt drugged so I stopped all the medicines. Then I got sick, twice. And when you've got insomnia and vomiting and a baby who needs you, life seems incredibly difficult.
I know that everyone has times like these. They are simply part of life. And so for a couple of weeks I didn't want to say anything. Because if everyone has hard times, we shouldn't complain, right? Of course Neal and my mother were the exception. I always talk to them about things (thanks guys!). But I tried desperately to help with my sister-in-law's much much harder pregnancy and active kids when I could. And I tried not to let it show that my exhaustion was making me shake as I tried to fulfill my responsibilities at my church. And I tried very hard to see the computer screen for grading student papers and answering emails. But mostly, I tried to make my house appear clean and make it seem like we were doing okay. I literally had to go outside during a family party at Thanksgiving because I just need to cry. But I didn't know how to do that in front of other people, even my own family. I didn't want to show them that I wasn't okay. Because I know so many others who have it worse.
But all the time to think at night when I'm awake, however slow my brain is getting, gave me some perspective. A family friend came for a visit and told me people were worried. I got a call from my Relief Society (my church women's group) saying they wanted to help. And how could they help.
And I cried.
Because I know so many others who need more help.
But they wanted to help me.
I'm weeping now as I write because I am overwhelmed at this concept that we are sometimes going through the hard times simultaneously. I know that one friend has no time or energy as she struggles with a disease that interrupts every part of life. I know my mother is pushing herself to be there for her parents as often as they'll let her while also taking care of two rambunctious grandchildren. I know the friend who has financial troubles which won't seem to resolve themselves quickly. I can keep listing those who I know well, very well, who have struggles that burden them. I spent the month grieving for those who I don't know whose trials are completely outside my realm of experience: refugees trying to escape terrifying circumstances, victims of terrorist attacks and shootings, and homeless in my own city trying to stay warm and fed during the winter.
For weeks I didn't want help because I just wanted others to have the help. Go help the homeless, the ill, the lonely. I have Neal and Peter and a warm home and plenty of food and a baby on the way. I am so blessed. I shouldn't, I can't possibly need help.
How grateful I am that they didn't believe me. I don't know the answers to any of the problems facing the world, or my neighbors, right now. But I know that learning to receive help and love from others is important. Only when I receive their love and give my love do I really understand how love works. It's not about saving love and service for those who "really need it". We all need it. The more we understand that, the less we'll feel inclined to be false selves going along being just fine.
Today is the second day in a row that I have slept for most of the night. I don't know what changed. Frankly, I just am grateful for the precious sleep I get. And I am sorely tempted to say to those who are just now offering to help that I'm fine. I don't need anything now. Go help someone else.
But today I let a friend take Peter for a while, even though I slept. Even though my house is pretty clean and I probably could manage. Because she offered. She meant it. She doesn't think I'm taking advantage of her. And instead of feeling guilty because others have it worse, I'm grateful for those who want to help. I want to help too, even though I'm still tired and sometimes dizzy and often overwhelmed emotionally. We live in a time when it's so easy to disconnect from real people and real situations. The more we see that we need each other, the more we can be connected again.
This Christmas season as I see Peter marvel at the lights and the music and the traditions, I realize that I have so much. But it's still okay to need help sometimes. As I celebrate the birth of the Savior, I realize that He too needed help. He was a helpless baby who had to be fed and burped and changed and taught. He knew how to receive gifts from those around him. Surely I can too.
So Merry Christmas friends. Thank you for your help and love. I couldn't do this on my own and I'm glad I don't have to.
My two biggest supporters! Also, they're wearing hats because at one point the furnace broke and it got quite cold. So we kept warm with hats made by Neal's mom. :)
