As my nine-year-old quietly sips his broth, seated upright for the first time in many hours, I breathe a sigh of relief. Though it was just a 24-hour bug, one which afflicts most third graders at one time or another, when it’s your third grader, the illness seems so much more critical. His bony spine sticks out jaggedly, in a way I don’t usually notice in his pajamas — my attention likely focused there since he’s complained about his hunger for nearly twelve hours.
I lay next to him from midnight ’til six a.m. last night, flat on the floor outside the bathroom. After my husband helped to clean the initial wretched mess, peeling his sheets from his bed and scrubbing the carpet, I organized a pail and paper towel, and thin blankets that could be easily washed. Throughout the rest of the night I stayed with him there, twice calling the hospital to rule out appendicitis, sometimes talking him through the gut-wrenching pain, sometimes helping him to find the bucket, sometimes saying nothing, while trying not to overreact to his pitiful cries for help.
“It hurts so much, Mom.”
“When will it stop hurting, Mom?”
In the absence of a precise answer to these questions, I could only tell him it was likely the 24-hour stomach flu, and the pain would probably end in a couple of hours. I could only encourage him to lie still and not cry, since experience told me that movement and excitement made a sick stomach do horrible things. And I could only warn him that his insistence on eating or drinking something was premature — that his body wasn’t yet ready for it and would expel it soon after taking it in.
But most importantly what I could do was to stay with him, awake at an hour that I’d normally not be, listening to his frantic pleas with an uncharacteristic patience. In times of the most basic needs, time seems to stop, and the outside world seems to vanish. My normally efficient, focused, strict, ambitious self gives way to the maternal one I rarely see.
It’s in these sleep-deprived moments that I recognize the blessed lives we live, with children who are rarely sick or in pain, and who never have to wait long to satisfy their hunger. And I think about the simple messages I send in these few opportunities to nurse my children, and wonder which ones they may pass to their own children one day.
There are so many ways to pass the torch.
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Tags: illness, motherhood, stomach flu, torch tuesday
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11:08 pm
Sure hope he feels chipper soon.
I’m so thankful for miracles of modern medicine.
8:06 am
Awwww….poor baby. One of my scariest moments as a first-time mom was when Flicka started vomiting with her first go-around with rotovirus when she was less than a year old. *sigh* I don’t know what’s more heart-wrenching: having them be able to ask coherent questions and having no answers OR having them be so small, helpless, and non-verbal and they don’t understand what’s happening to them and why you have to withhold food and too many liquids! *sigh*
Hope everyone is getting some rest today!
8:52 am
(((((((((((((((((((((HUG))))))))))))))))))))))) for my poor skinny Grandson. Hopefully he is up ‘n attum by now and eating like a horse! Hopefully skinny Granddaughter doesn’t get it too……… XXXXXX’s and OOOOOO’s all around. I.L.Y.
11:24 am
As long at that patience lives inside of you and you can summon it, and call upon that maternal presence, you are in the right place - whether it’s uncharacteristic or not. Great job comforting him. Hope he feels well soon.
12:25 pm
Ooooooo I’m so sorry for the illness bug! They are so miserable! Your kids are so lucky to have such a loving and great mom to see them through it. What a not fun thing to come back to! Hope your vacation was great - the beach photo looks like great fun! Here’s to health and no passing of the bug to you and yours!
Hugs,
Holly
2:23 pm
Awww…poor baby. Such a good post. Thank you.
3:14 pm
Beautiful. Well done, Mom!
10:17 pm
I am living with that right now. My son has been so sick with a bug. Thanks for the article.
8:38 am
Kelly,
:/, I so wish I had read this when it was current…just to encourage you during those difficult moments.
This was written beautifully, particularly those last two comments. THAT is the kind of writing of yours that reaches me in the most deepest of places.
Said with much heart, rendered with beauty.