Our younger son just did something that I think is a perfect analogy for life right now: It was 5:30am. He cried out for me, “Mommy! Mommy!” like something was really urgent, and he was upset and needed me immediately. I sprang up, grabbed some hand sanitizer (an automatic process now), and stumbled down the hall the approximate 15 steps to his room. I walked in quietly and whispered, “What’s the matter, Bud?” only to find that he was FAST ASLEEP and had no idea I was in there. 

This analogy works 2 ways. The first way is that this illness, this way of life, is all “hurry up and stop.” Things are scary, and we rush around and freak out, and then (thankfully) everything calms down, and I feel really foolish and disoriented. The second way is that this shows how little I understand what’s going on inside his body and mind. This is true of all kids, of course. I have no idea what thoughts or maladies exist in the mind and body of my 6-year-old either. 

The most humbling thing about being a parent is how little you, as a real person and a separate entity of a human being, matter to them. My little son has no conceptual understanding that I exist outside of him, so when I’m out of the room, I’m just waiting for another chance to re-enter his story, his life-play. The person of “Mommy” is EXTREMELY important, but Laura Mikels means little to him. The idea that I, too, need to sleep in order to function just doesn’t occur to him. Add on top of it that he feels physically really bad a LOT lately, and my own self-centeredness is really wounded by his. It’s almost like I need to STOP being self-centered and thinking of myself as the center of this story now… (sorry, sarcasm doesn’t work as well in print). 

I don’t know how to put myself aside sometimes though. It’s a constant struggle and cycle. I do really well for a while, keeping both children’s well-being as the focus and putting them first. But then slowly, little by little, the tunnel of my vision starts to turn away from them and back towards me. I’M so tired, I’M so angry, I’M so sad, I I I need time to myself… These things might be true, but sometimes, I expect everyone else, including the boys, to understand I’m struggling without me having to say anything. I expect to still be taken care of like a child on some level. I guess I thought it would be a natural evolution of parenthood – that all of the sudden, I would naturally stop wanting to put my own wants first. Eventually in the cycle, I take a look around and realize I’ve gone back into me-mode, so it begins again. 

You may be thinking, Laura, your child has cancer. How could you be worrying about yourself at a time like this? Well the answer to that question, dear friend, is that I’m selfish. Or at least self-centered. Most people are. We can only keep trying to be better.

But if I want them to trust me and know they can call me when they need me, I have to answer now. If I want them to know I put them first, it should go without saying that I need to put them first. This isn’t about self-flagellation or putting myself down. It’s about holding myself to a high standard for myself and for my sons. I don’t need to forget about myself or my needs to be a good mom. It’s just good for me to remember that to take care of others is a good way to get out of the self-centered cycle I find myself in. After I sleep and run and eat good food and feel good in my body and mind, then I move away from constantly thinking of myself and take care of these boys in my house and hopefully some people outside of my house as well. Transcending self-care and reaching fulfillment is the goal. When I’m full to overflowing, there’s enough to share.