Tending to my own

Watching your child be sick is the hardest thing a parent can do. It makes you question every ounce of good you thought about your parenting skills. It makes you want to quit your job so that they never spend another day out in the world and risk getting sick. You question even your better judgement that tells you that you are a good mom. If your baby is sick then how can you be a good mom. Arent you supposed to protect them against EVERYTHING bad in this world. If you havent figured it out our litte precious is sick...AGAIN. My sister does her best to comfort me and tell me that it is her age, everything in the mouth no matter how hard you try. And not that I dont appreciate all the comfort, but it just doesnt make you feel better about your sick baby.

She is lathargic and wraspy, she is achy and fussy with fever. The doctor did the RSV test (the least fun I have ever had and the only time I have cried in front of a doctor as a grown up) We are doing breathing treatments which is the most pitiful thing that you have ever seen. There is nothing worse than not being able to stop an ache, a cough, a fever, watery eyes or a stuffy nose. There is no harder job than being a mom to a sick baby, but it is a job I would never quit.

I have the most helpful husband and he is wonderful in trying to give me a break after a long day with her. He helps feed and bathe and change diapers and he hurts just as bad as I do. I couldnt ask for a better, or more wonderful sweet husband. He is a prince...and a handsome prince at that. He offers to take off work, but I just cant leave her all knowing she doesnt feel good. When she is not laughing and talking my heart is sad. When I hear that little cough I ache. I cannot imagine Joe and Laura and their battle and I cannot imagine what takes over in a mommy to watch doctors work on your child and do things that hurt him that you know help him. I remember very vividly when my brother was my nephews age visiting Texas Children's Hospital while he stayed there recovering from a septic hip. I remember showing up right before he went into surgery. I remember what that hallway looked like and the waiting room. I remember him wearing an IV. I remember being nine or ten and not getting it. Not understanding why my moms face was full of fear in that waiting room. She says an angel touched her and told her that she should go check on him upstairs. As wonderful as my husband is there is just something that God puts in a mommy to know and feel pain when their babies are. To not rest easy if the baby doesnt seem just right. He stirs a mommies soul to know that she needs to tend to that baby.
I am blessed and she will get better soon, but tonight she is not well and so I am not well. I am like a mommy bear protecting her young. I sleep by her with one I open, checking that breathing, listening intently at every cough, wiping every runny nose. Tending to my own.