I was diagnosed with sepsis while at Disney World. The hardest thing was dealing with the guilt that I was letting my kids down.

• Two days into a family trip, I spiked a 103 fever and didn't feel great.
• At the hospital, I was diagnosed with sepsis and felt guilty for ruining my family's trip.
• I learned I can't control what happens and should let go of mom guilt.

Two days into a Disney World vacation with my husband Anthony, our two daughters, and my in-laws, I became very sick. With a fever of 103, I shook with chills, ached all over, and dry-heaved repeatedly.

We'd been excited about this trip. Every day before we left, I drew a Disney-themed picture on my 8-year-old daughter's snack bag. I counted the days, with the number eight hidden in Cinderella's castle, Mickey's four-fingered glove, and a glittery two alongside Tinkerbell.

And then, I was in the room feeling guilty while my family explored Magic Kingdom. I'm no stranger to illness. Born with heart disease, I've recovered from four open heart surgeries, but I rolled around the bed moaning in pain. I cried to Anthony on the phone, delirious from the fever, the lorazepam I'd taken, or both.

I didn't think anything was seriously wrong, but I called my cardiology nurse after a few days. She said I likely had a virus, but since my mechanical valve and pacemaker are breeding grounds for bacteria, we should rule out blood infection. She sent me to the emergency room for blood cultures.

Things were worse than I imagined

"She's septic," the triage nurse said.

Maybe I couldn't register her words through the pain; maybe Anthony was getting me a blanket at that moment because once I was in an exam room, neither of us understood why the clinicians seemed so serious. This was a virus; I was only here as a precaution.

But my pressure was 70/40, my white blood cell count was elevated, and I had an infection somewhere. The culture results would take days, but they treated my symptoms and started antibiotics. Once I could think clearly, the guilt returned.

This wasn't how I'd imagined this vacation. I was supposed to watch my daughters spin around in oversize teacups, not see the room spin around me. Instead of pulling on a hospital gown, I should've been helping my 8-year-old pull on her princess dress. I wanted to be pushing my 4-year-old in her stroller, not being pushed through the hospital on a gurney.

The culture came back positive. I was moved to an inpatient floor, and the guilt festered. I was in the hospital for about a week, but it felt like forever. I cried often — when my kids flew home without me, before every medical test, petrified the results would keep me away from them longer, and each time, my in-laws sent me a picture of their faces.

If I'd paid attention, I would've noticed those smiling faces. While I was wallowing in guilt, they were having the time of their lives.

We made our way through it together

I remained guilty when I returned home and spent four months on IV antibiotics, which ravaged my stomach and kept me curled on the couch for half that time. I was lucky to have my husband home temporarily, my mother, who moved in while I recovered, and extended family and friends willing to help. It killed me that I could hardly take care of my girls, but we found a way. We cuddled while watching TV and played games. They decorated my IV pole for my birthday.

In the end, I didn't need to feel so guilty. My kids are OK. It wasn't easy. My older daughter admitted later that she cried herself to sleep while I was in the hospital. My younger one cried so much before preschool during that time, we pulled her out. It was hard, but so is life. They got through it and learned they had parents who loved them and an entire village willing to care for them when their mother couldn't.

I learned that this ever-pressing guilt we moms carry is futile. I can't control what happens to me. Inevitably, I'll have more medical issues down the line. Maybe my kids will be better prepared to handle it. At least now I know we can get through it together. And I know not only that I love them, sometimes to a painful degree, but that they love me too, even when things are difficult and even if sometimes I ruin their good time.