Too Proud

I'm too proud. I'll admit it. I'm too proud to ask for help, but I'm not too proud to admit that. I know that it's perfectly acceptable to ask for help. In my brain, I know that. Yet I tend to do unnecessary things just because I don't want to inconvenience other people. That's the fact of the matter.

I'm learning, though, that it doesn't matter how proud I am. I'm learning to swallow my pride, bite the bullet, and ask for help when I need it. That's a hard thing to do, by the way. A big transition. I'm not patting myself on the back for deciding to make said transition. Not by any means. Because in all honesty, I'd still go about my life not asking for help. It's coming to a point where it's not worth the struggle. The fact of the matter is that I've been thrown into this time in my life where it's not really a choice anymore.

Let me first start by saying that James helps willingly all the time like the perfect husband he is. He reminds me all the time that I'm human and it's OK for us to need help sometimes.

With having a C Section, I needed more help than I wanted to admit. I didn't want people to have to go out of their way to help me. With James going back to work, I needed more help than I wanted to admit. I didn't want people to have to go out of their way to help me. I've been holding out for as long as possible to not have to ask for help. My house is a mess because I literally need to do laundry and dishes every single day to keep the bottles washed, and burp cloths clean. I wouldn't trade that for anything. It's not hard work, I just need a few more hours in the day, and I can do stuff all by myself. When I'm talking about needing help, I mean even from James. Which is so ludicrous. This house is ours. This baby is ours. The responsibilities are split down the middle. But I still feel bad asking him to feed Olivia when he gets home from a long day at work. I still feel bad asking him to finish the dishes so I can work on the laundry. I still feel bad when Olivia is having a fussy night and he has to get up to help me with her. I realize that's insane. I do. But he has long days at work, and I don't want him to have to come home and be bombarded with stuff. It's silly though, because he loves doing it. As do most of the people that offer to help. The month that Olivia has been with us has been an adjustment of asking for help. The biggest adjustment though, has come this week.

It's at a point where I have to have help even though I don't necessarily want it. I want to be able to do everything on my own. I want to be able to be in 5 places and have 10 extra hours in the day to get everything done I need to get done. Just me and James. But that's not realistic, I'm learning.

Since having Olivia, I've been having what we thought was really intense heart burn. (3-4 times a week since she's been born.) Sunday night, though, it became pretty obvious that it was more than heart burn. My heart burn was coming closer together, lasting longer, and having a ridiculous intensity. I would writhe in pain, and cry for hours. I could find no relief. I, of course, felt bad that James had to do all of the night time routine by himself while I just laid on the bed. I apologized that I couldn't help him. He told me I was ridiculous for apologizing for being in pain, because we are a team. Tums didn't help, Alka Seltzer chews didn't help. Nothing helped. I threw up 4 times Sunday night, and I immediately felt better.

Monday, another episode. But I only threw up once. Tuesday around noon, an episode came on, and I couldn't hold Olivia without being in pain. I couldn't get comfortable. Nothing I was doing would relieve the heart burn. James insisted I go to urgent care. I couldn't have tests run and keep Olivia fed, changed, and happy. I had to ask for help.

James was at work, but his mom came with me. She sat with Olivia in the waiting room for hours while I had blood drawn and tests run. James met us when he got off work, and he was in the rooms with me getting results from tests, etc. I got prescriptions, and James' mom was there to pick up the prescriptions and we were able to take Olivia home. The whole way home I told James how much I hate asking for help and having to have other people help us with Olivia. My mindset is that we chose to have a child, and we should be able to take care of her without always calling on people.

Well, turns out that we'll need more help. God is really helping me swallow my pride here, isn't He?

In 12% of pregnancies, the amount of estrogen and progesterone in the body make the gallbladder not contract as well. The bile in the gallbladder turns to stones. So, I fall in that 12% apparently. In order to get relief, I'll need to have my gallbladder removed. Almost 5 weeks after having a C Section, and having a month old newborn who needs me and James, we are now needing to focus on something else.

It's just am outpatient surgery, and won't take long. It's really not even a big deal. But in pre-op, I can't go by myself because I'll be having stuff done where I can't take Olivia back there. On the day of surgery, James and I will have to have James' mom watch Olivia while I'm at the hospital. I texted my family and asked if any of them could come help while I'm recovering if it's a hard recovery. I hate doing that.

It frustrates me that I can't be at home with her doing the things I need to be doing. It frustrates me that James has to use time to take off work for my surgery Friday. I hate it when stuff that concerns me impacts other people.

It's a learning process. It's a reality check from God that I can't do it all. I'm not too proud to admit that I'm too proud. I'm not going to change over night, no matter how much I want. But I'll try. I'm still going to try to do everything on my own, because I just am. But if it comes a time when I just can't, I'll try my best to fix up a plate of pride and swallow it right down. Because sometimes, being a mom, and doing what's best for Olivia means doing something I don't normally do. I'm learning.