My parents, Marcus’ Godmother, my nieces, and my favourite brother (also, Marcus’ Godfather) are my go-to people when I need help. They are there for us every time. I trust them completely with my children. I know they love them and us completely.
I feel so guilty asking for their help each time Franklin has a hospital stay. The last one was in October last year. So, it is fairly often. Often enough at least. Watching my kids for hours, day after day, or giving me drives, or picking Franklin up and driving him all the way home, visiting him in the hospital, including our family in their prayer groups, grocery shopping, feeding us, listening, and loving. The list is so much longer, but it hurts to say it all. Hurts, because I feel so ….guilty? I have to impose on them time and time again. And during the 10+years it’s added up to a life time of payback I could never repay. I hate asking for help, but when Franklin’s not feeling well I have to….again and again. I hate being a hindrance to their daily lives. I hate being an encumbrance each time I call for help.
I know they love us. They want to be there for us. They will help us if they can. No strings attached. They have NEVER said or done anything to make me question their unconditional help. But, I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop they sigh when I call again for help. I can only do as much as I can on my own so I don’t harass them more than necessary. Because our reality is that necessary will come again.
All of these emotions are stemming from the following saga, starting with Balance between Husband and Children.