I hate asking for help

I'm the person who organizes the fundraisers. Who delivers meals or drives friends to the doctor. Who checks on the cats and picks up mail, and leaves baked good when you arrive home from your trip. I send funny little cards for no reason.

But in the past few years, I've had to ask for help. I've needed people to go to the doctor with me, to stop at the store and bring some ice cream when I needed cheering up. But just because I've had to ask for help, doesn't mean that I like it.

I don't. I haven't. But I need to ask for help again. And I need people to not wait for me to ask for help. Over the course of the next year and a half, I will need people to remind me that 18 months really isn't that long. I will need people to understand that sometimes, still, seeing a baby hurts. That sometimes, I don't want to hear about your child, niece or nephew, grandchild -- all of the above. And sometimes, I will want to hear about every little thing they are doing. And I just need you to follow my cues.

And I need help with the raffle. Selling tickets, keeping me motivated, even when I feel like giving up. Even when I'm feeling humbled beyond words at needing to ask for help.

It won't be every day. It won't be every week. But it'll be. It'll happen. And that's when I'll need you.