One person or another in our household has been laid up since Thanksgiving.
I’m beginning to think that we’ve offended the universe in some very serious way, bringing upon us plague after plague. My plague, of course, is of a different sort, with morning sickness that lasts all the livelong day.
We’re a barrel of laughs, I tell ya.
It got so bad that I hired one of those professional maid companies to clean my house on Friday. My mother-in-law came to town for a one-day visit and the idea of exerting any energy to clean made me weep. So I forked over a semi-outrageous fee for two women to come and wipe down my kitchen cabinets and clean my toilets.
Oh, the shame!
Then, yesterday morning, I woke up to a weepy, runny child, her head hot with fever. All raw lips and sweaty armpits, she rested, lethargic, all day yesterday, eating only pretzels and sipping ice water.
I can take it when I’m sick. It sucks, but I know it will end. Even my constant nausea has an end-point, with my second trimester bringing some intermittent relief.
I can take it when my husband is sick, or laid low from an injury, as he has been since Dec. 17 - not that I’m keeping track or anything. It’s annoying, and of course I am concerned about him, but I know he’ll get through it.
But when my baby is down for the count?
It breaks my heart.
My daughter is such a busy, energetic kid. She wakes up each morning with a smile on her face, ready to play and learn and love with all her might. Watching her struggle to breathe while laying silent and grim on our family room sofa brings me to my knees.
Laying my cool hands on her feverish brow and brushing back her pretty chestnut curls, I wish with all my might that the illness will flee her body and enter my own. I am strong, I am the grown-up. I can handle it. I want to take all her pain and discomfort and swallow it whole.
Watching her suffer - and no matter that my rational brain knows she will be just fine - touches all my tender spots.
And I know that as she grows, her pains will be ever more out of my control. Her first heartbreak. The first time a friend rejects her. The first time she realizes some truth about herself that sets her apart, makes her different. The first time she sees me and her father as the flawed human beings that we are.
I used to believe that motherhood could make you invincible. That was before my child was of this earth. Now, I realize that nothing in this world makes you more vulnerable.
by A.L. Hatch
[tags]kids, children, parents, parenting, illness, sickness, home, vulnerable, health, cold, fever[/tags]
Photo graciously provided by melyviz, through a Creative Commons license, some rights reserved
5 responses so far ↓
Megin Hatch // Feb 26, 2008 at 5:13 am
Amen.
I told kid #1 when he was on fire last week that I wished I could take it on and he said, “Oh Mama, trust me, you would not like to feel this way.”
Shame that sickness is all I can write about these days.
I hope it passes quickly.
slouching mom // Feb 26, 2008 at 9:31 am
You’re preaching to the choir. Ben was up last night with a 103-degree fever.
The worrying does NOT let up as they get older, sad to say.
Heather // Feb 26, 2008 at 3:43 pm
We’ve had it here too, for months it seems. I think everyone just needs it to be Spring.
Emily // Feb 27, 2008 at 4:33 am
Absolutely. You said it perfectly.
Dorothy Stahlnecker // Feb 27, 2008 at 6:22 am
Having your children sick is the hardest thing to watch. It really plays a toll on your mind as you cannot do anything but give them love and care.
Good luck with the family and no colds, flue, etc etc..
Dorothy from grammology
remember to call gram
http://www.grammology.com
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