Nothing prepared me for this: the fragility and fiery protectiveness I’d feel when confronted with caring for my sick child.
Bean awoke last night about an hour after going to sleep—crying inconsolably, hysterically, till mucus ran in two small rivers from his nose. He cried hard and frantically, throwing his body about in my arms as I tried to offer a breast, or hold his hands under running water, or show him the cat—my usual ploys to calm him when he’s upset. But for a long while nothing consoled him—a long enough while enough for DH to call pediatrician and then make a trip to the store for children’s Tylenol.
Finally I put John Gorka on and danced with him, slowly, in the semi-dark of the living room lit only from the streetlights outside the window. Finally his breathing grew regular. He sucked in the last puckered sobs. His head dropped to my chest.
Then we sat together, his body pressed tightly to mine—wrapped in blankets in the rocking chair, and I rocked him until his body grew limp with sleep. And then I kept rocking, never wanting to let go.
Later in the night he woke again: crying, sobbing, wailing. Again I put the music on and danced with him till his cries turned to whimpers, and then I curled with him in the big white armchair in the living room, burrowed under a down comforter, listening to the music until he finally slept. I carried him to bed and he slept nestled up against the heat of our bodies, his small feet pressed into my belly.
He slept then until morning, and woke happy, with a running nose, wanting to be carried all day.
Nothing prepared me for this: the quivering feeling of guilt, when I look into his sweet sick face. What could I have done wrong? What small neglect?
By mid morning I realized I was sick too, and we napped for hours, our cheeks next to each other—his hair damp with sweat. And later, he was content to ride about in the sling on my hip—something he almost never does because he wants to be moving about, exploring, active, pulling up on things.
I’m not sure how to begin to comprehend the immenseness of this feeling: this love, this guilt, this exhaustion. And yet a part of me realizes it isn’t about comprehending at all. It’s simply about being there in the dark, dancing with my son up against my heart.
you got it. nothing quite describes the feeling of caring for a sick kid, but nothing quite defines a mother better than that too. you’re such a wonderful mother. you’ill learn how to deal with guilt and “I don’t know what to do to make him feel better” (my kids have been so sick for the first three years, and I still get that feeling sometimes!). sooooo sorry you are both sick. feel better soon ((mega hugs))
I tried to leave two comments earlier and they never showed up. This is a test…
Weird. OK, what I was going to say was:
Isn’t it awful when your little one is sick? My kids did the same thing as babies, they wanted to be held 24-7. And, I never minded because i just felt so sad they weren’t feeling good.
Here’s hoping little Bean and his adoring Mommy get better soon!
oh you poor things! I hope you feel better soon. I don’t think anything prepares us for the helplessness we fill when our babies are sick. Karin’s home today running a fever, but to be honest, I’m so glad that she’s not a baby anymore! She haunts around with flushed cheeks in her footy-pajamas, looking woe-be-gone, until I banish her back to bed.
This might seem odd — but I am going to say it anyway as your post brought it to mind.
My Youngest has serious chronic asthma as well as a neuro condition that requires occasional hospital stays…(don’t worry this isn’t one of those horrible kid-in-the-hospital stories)
it’s just that, when I am mothering him when he is at his worst, I feel like I am doing the best work of my life. It is hard to put into words…when he is awfully sick and I put all my focus into making him comfortable we have an incredible connection and my care for him, my tending to him is at its highest form.
Because I know he WILL be well, it is satisfying.
I hope he is better soon –
Your experience shows how strong the connection is when a child is so young, and how this connection can be both terrifying and extraordinarily beautiful. But you can communicate so much through your touch and closeness at these times, and as a mother, that’s the work of love you do. I suppose the feelings of guilt, even if they are over something out of our control like a cold, are part of the maternal program, put there to keep us ever-vigilant! I remember many times like this with my son…this post brought back a few remote images. Take care and I hope you both feel better soon.
Poor Bean and poor you. It’s so hard to see them so miserable. Bean sounds like my Small Boy – energetic, sturdy, resilient, all Boy – and then they get sick and it’s an electric shock to be reminded what fragile frightened babies they actually still are in a big big world.
On a different note, this is getting down right wierd – I can’t believe you’re also a John Gorka fan! Flying Red Horse is a regular Small Boy lullabye!
Both of you get well soon
Poor baby, poor mama! I’m dreading Pearl’s first sickness, I know it’s probably looming with winter right ahead…
It’s so tough when babies are young and cannot tell you what in particular is bothering them. I have had that uncertainty leave me feeling helpless on several occasions.
You’re such a wonderful mother, and every time I visit here you remind me what a special gift this journey of motherhood really is and how precious each moment is.
Hang in there… and I hope you’re both feeling better soon.
being there in the dark…yes…I remember those nights when my son was younger…he wanted me to sing. he had terrible ear infections so there were always so many sleepless nights. i remember that same guilt and oh, the powerlessness and inadequacy. i remember wondering why no one ever told me that i would get so exhausted i could do nothing but cry right along with him…sending well wishes to both you and your little one…
drink green tea and hum a lot when he’s against your chest. the vibrations help soothe him.
Have commented before; but just wanted to wish you & your little Bean a “get well soon.”
Don’t forget to take care of yourself, too. I remember having a cold when still nursing & becoming so dehydrated – really push the fluids for both your sakes & rest whenever you can.
Checking in from the road and yo, we are so with you. Both girls are sick and so am I… it’s hard. Hope you are both back to wellness soon! Love!
Don’t feel guilty when he’s sick. Childhood illnesses, runny noses and fevers are doing good work, strengthening his immune system and making him stronger!
You might feel helpless, but don’t punish yourself with guilt, my friend. You are a wonderful mother; your spirit and love shine out of this cold technological machine thingy on my desk.
That was one of the warmest, most genuine and intimate posts about being a mother that I’ve ever read. It tugged at my heart in a great subtle way.
I hope you both feel well again soon.
nothing has been harder for me in motherhood than dealing with my sick children. your words here, they are so true. nothing has broken me like holding my children in the middle of the night, worrying over their rising temperatures, wanting to make it all better. I never knew how much of a worrier I was until I had kids. when your kids are sick, you are stretched in ways you never knew you would be.
What an evocative and touching piece of writing. Reminds me so much of similar experiences.