Easter for my family did not go as planned. I had the perfect outfits picked, adorable baskets put together, everything was all set for a lovely day of church, food and a visit from the Easter Bunny. Everything was perfect, until it wasn’t. Somewhere in between late Saturday night and early Sunday morning I made my usual rounds checking on the sleeping kids and found my middle curled up in the fetal position, moaning in her sleep. Instantly, I knew something wasn’t right and my hand immediately went straight for her forehead. Warm but not hot. She stirred slightly and I asked if she felt ok. She replied yes, smiled and drifted back to sleep. I went back to bed feeling confident that all was well. Fast forward several hours later and that confidence was shattered by a terrifying 105 temperature. A trip to the ER later confirmed a lovely case of Influenza A. By Monday all three of my kiddos were knocked out with the nasty virus. Praise God and Tamiflu for keeping my 5 month old sons symptoms manageable since he is considered high risk with the flu.

As soon as we left the pediatricians office with the diagnosis I went into full blown mommy-mode. I stocked up on Tylenol, boogie wipes, Gatorade, pediatyle and an out of control amount of 50% off Easter candy. Favorite treats, meals, blankies and movies were provided along with an endless amount of doting, kisses and attention. Sick babies = top priority in this mamas book.

For those of you who don’t know me, let me share that worrying obsessively is a hobby of mine. I could probably compete and take home the gold in the Worrying Olympics. So, having all three of my kiddos sick at the same time was a breeding ground for my anxiety.

I. Was. Terrified.

So, I did what every mother does, I mothered tirelessly.

I felt like I was taking care of everyone who needed my focus, only I wasn’t. The one person I wasn’t focusing on was my husband. Who, along with me, was worried about the kids, just not at a competitive level, he’s still an amateur. His calm and seemingly nonchalance both reassured and angered me.

Why wasn’t he worried?

Didn’t he know the dangers of Influenza in children?

Ugh, why was he so business as usual?

Each evening he’d come home from work wanting just a sliver of my time and attention, needing to feel a bit connected to his partner. What he didn’t see was the river of crazy raging just beneath my surface ready to explode at moments notice. My "need me" quota had long since been hit and my nerves were shot. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to spend time with my husband or that I didn’t care about how his day went. But the truth is, at that point, I cared about a second of quiet, a shower, a hot meal and to pee alone just a wee bit more. Sorry, only not that sorry. We both had rough jobs that week.

Yet, after a "passionate" discussion I realized several things about my husband, myself and our marriage. I learned that my amazingly strong, manly, former Marine husband has an oweey gooey center and needs physical attention to thrive. When I’m in the grasps of anxiety my first instinct is to retreat into my own mind. I can keep myself focused and calm. Unfortunately, there’s no room for my husband. It’s a room for one. Although my methods for dealing with my raging river of crazy are effective, they are isolating. I’m so caught up in saving myself from drowning I don’t see my partner desperately trying to throw me a life preserver. At the end of the day we both felt tired, isolated and like we fought the battle alone. I’m not taking all the blame. My hubs can and does do some pretty amazingly dumb stuff but most of the time its unintentional.

The second thing I learned is that we see my role as a mother differently. As a child growing up, any time I was sick my mom never left my side. Anything I needed or wanted, I got. I carry on that tradition with my kids. His childhood was much different. Because of this, my attitude towards parenting can seem foreign to him. While he adores my commitment to our kids he doesn’t always understand my methods. And that’s ok. We both love and cherish our kids. We are both learning how to be effective partners in raising our brood of little humans. The third, and most important, thing I learned is that my husband is my partner, not another child. I oftentimes make the mistake of assuming he wouldn’t understand my needs or be willing to help with them. When in reality, he’d be happy to help. I just have to ask. I don’t like to ask for help. It goes against my nature. But when I’m drowning in my river of anxieties, I’m learning it sure feels good to know he’s on the shore to pull me to safety. I have to accept that needing my husband doesn’t make me a bad mom. Letting myself drown, does.

Sometimes, I need to let him save me.