OK people, especially you mama’s, (and predominant caregivers) real talk here, when was the last time you got sick?

Almost every mother knows, that mamas don’t get sick. I know I don’t, and the moms around me never seem to get sick either. Sometimes I’ll have a random headache or one morning or afternoon of just feeling wiped out, and I did have a cold about two years ago, but even then, we bounce back in record time. Sucking it up and soldiering on. Because mamas just don’t get sick. Maybe in the past, they were sick once or twice, but with no one to take care of the child/children, or you, feeling completely miserable and still having to take care of the house and dependent inhabitants is a solid lesson in “it’s just not worth it.”

Two times stand out in my own memory of being sick and realizing I had to deal with it alone. As for hubby? Despite previous proof that he was more than capable, his “can’t deal with this” tendencies really shined.

The first was when a stomach bug hit the fam, my 3-year-old had picked it up from daycare and I had to leave work early one day to go get him, he vomited in the car on the way home, and then later on me. He was half asleep cuddling me on the couch and woke up just enough to say “be sick” as he vomited into my hair, over my shoulder, and down the front of my shirt, it even made it into my bra. As I was running into the bathroom with him, trying to hold my boy and a towel in place to keep the vomit from leaving a trail behind us, and stood in the bath to take off all our soiled clothing, I had the thought that I would probably be the next one puking. And I was. My husband was working (it was a busy weekend for the bar he worked at, and he couldn’t take the time off) so the next day my little man felt better (thank goodness it was just an 8-hour tummy bug that swept through him like a storm) he was full of energy and chatter and very hungry. I however thought I was going to die. My head was pounding so hard I could barely open my eyes, my insides churned and the force with which everything left my body made vomit shoot out of my nose with as much force as it came out of my mouth.

We had only been living in this town for about 3 months, so I had no support system or even a friend to call, even though at the time I didn’t have the wherewithal to call anyone anyway. So in between running off to the bathroom to vomit, and feeling like my head was going to explode, I was washing hands and disinfecting and making food and taking care of my re-invigorated child, I remember thinking after a particularly nasty expulsion of whatever was left in my body, as my eyes throbbed from the pain in my head and I was using Clorox wipes to clean the toilet and surrounding areas, and disposing of the trash, that I was now a true mom in every sense of the word, and motherhood kind of sucked sometimes, and at some point in the future this may be funny, but it wasn’t that day. That day was awful. There was also the added bonus of the husband hearing that our little human had been sick the night before, wanted to keep his distance so he wouldn’t get sick, went out for a few drinks after work, and got home so late he couldn’t take care of our son the next morning as he was asleep. But he could wake me up and tell me he was sleeping in the spare room. I remember wanting to just cry but didn’t even have the strength to summon the anguish. So, I was just freaking miserable. It sucked. Just my sweet boy climbing on me offering comfort as he patted my head and said, “mommy sick.”

The next time I was incapacitated was due to a rare migraine, we had just moved across the world and were staying with my sister and her partner while we got settled into the new country. My sister was out of the house, working or something, and I requested my husband and the other man in the house look after our 4-year-old, so I could just succumb to the migraine and wait for it to pass, things were fine until a couple of hours later, I had finally fallen asleep, and in an epic teenage misjudgment, after they had dinner, the menfolk decided it would be a good idea to head out to the local pub. No worries, just put the 4-year-old in bed with Mom. Which, as you can imagine was an epically horrible lapse of judgment on both their parts. I could not believe it. It was the first and only time I sent the husband a “Where are you? I fucking hate you so much right now.” text. He was home in about 15 minutes and, after attempting to pick a fight about the text I sent, realized I looked and felt like hell and was in no mood to put up with his shit, apologized profusely as he thought it would be ok. After all, in man world, when isn’t it ok to put a kid in bed with their sick mother and pop out for a few drinkies with a buddy? Looking back, that was a red flag I missed, like so many along the way, but that’s another story for another time.

When I had recovered from said migraine we talked about how, when I am sick, I do not need him to take care of me, as I can take care of myself, but I do need him to pick up the slack, step in and take care of our child, he agreed and promised to do better next time.

Yet it still taught me on a level I did not fully realize until recently, that it just wasn’t worth it for me to get sick. Because it just wasn’t. Even as we have progressed through the years, and my son would be sick and all he wanted was cuddles, I still never caught anything he had.

So, why is it that mamas don’t get sick very often? Even though I don’t know any fathers in the same position, I would think it would be the same for them. The predominant caregiver seems to have an immune system of steel. I imagine most mothers/predominant caregivers have similar stories and experiences (yes, I know not all will or do.)  And it makes me wonder, is it because we can read ourselves better and give our bodies the support it needs? Or because there is nobody to step in and pick up the slack? Or a mixture of the two? What is your experience? Thoughts?