Motherhood Got Too Hard, So I Did Something Wild
At 2:00 a.m., I dimmed my phone and read about plasma exchange for post-COVID patients. My son Marty’s diagnoses blurred together—Long COVID, Lyme, Celiac, chronic fatigue. Suddenly, I was Marty’s chief medical officer, nutritionist, and motivational momma. “Do your best and a little better!” I said every morning when Marty couldn’t get moving. I packed antibiotics and supplements into a rainbow pill organizer like it was an Olympic event. I was doing everything to keep him going. But I was falling apart. Then, one night, an email popped up that had nothing to do with lab results or missed school assignments. “Professor,” wrote Hasan, one of my former journalism students. “I’m getting married! Please come to my wedding in Pakistan.” I imagined the flight. I could binge-watch Slow Horses and sleep. I reached out to the U.S. Embassy in Islamabad to clarify the Level 3 travel warning for Pakistan. “There’s terrorist activity along the border,” an employee wrote. “We advise reconsidering travel.” Also, Israel had just bombed Iran, and I’m Jewish. “I just won’t mention …