Four a.m.

[rivka]

My foot keeps the steady rhythm of the glider going. Her foot against my thigh is scalding. I press my cool cheek against her hot forehead, breathe in the scent of illness underneath the scent of Johnson & Johnson's baby shampoo.

I have come out of the darkness, floor-length robe silhouetted in the light from the hall, with droppers of sweet sticky medicine and a quiet murmured monologue less important for its content than its reassuring tone. I put on the lullabye CD and sing quietly along. She coughs and coughs.

She asks to go back in the crib, and I retreat to the bottom of the stairs to wait. But the coughing doesn't slow, and then comes a desperate wail of "Mommy!" I go back up, scoop her hot little body into my arms, discover that she's coughed hard enough to throw up. I strip off her clothes while Michael strips the crib sheets, sponge her down with a warm wet washcloth. She coughs hard and throws up again. And still my foot keeps the glider moving back and forth, back and forth, and my voice keeps murmuring nothing that I'll remember in the morning.

It's one of the times I feel most connected to my own mother. I remember her coming out of the darkness: thick, fuzzy aqua robe, cool hands, quiet voice. I remember that she never seemed worried or upset or annoyed or even tired. I remember the hot scared sweaty uncomfortable tearfulness being smoothed away.

So I rock, and I sing, and I whisper reassurances. Like my mother before me. Like generations of mothers before me. Like thousands and thousands of mothers all across the world who are up tonight with a sick child, rocking and soothing and waiting for the fever to go down. And I don't feel upset or annoyed or even tired.

I just feel like a mother.


[Started this entry last night, at 4 a.m. This morning she is still feverish. Her doctor has prescribed rest and chicken soup.]

Comments

[wilfulcait.livejournal.com]

This is why it has been such a comfort to me to have my mother with me while I've been sick -- because she smells and feels like all the times she's been able to comfort me in the past.

[saoba.livejournal.com]

Poor l'il Alex. Feel better soon.

You are a good Mama. And Michael is a good Papa. (I note these facts for morale purposes, sick baby time is rather dispiriting.)

True, albeit funny story, to this day one of my kids (now 30 years old) will sometimes call when she's ill because she wants me to sing to her, long distance at day time rates. And I cannot do it without either rocking in my chair, pacing back and forth or swaying from side to side in time to the music. The 'sing to sick child' mode is imprinted at muscle memory level for me.

[klwalton.livejournal.com]

I still want my mom when I'm sick. My daughter, all 27 years of her, comes here and curls up on the couch next to me when she's feeling poorly.

[ex-serenejo.livejournal.com]

I hope she's better really soon. Wish I could bring you my mother's patented (not really) Jewish Penicillin.

This is a beautiful poem. May I share it with my mother?

[rivka.livejournal.com]

We've got a Chinese restaurant near our house that sells the most marvelous chicken soup.

Yes, certainly you may share this with your mother, although I'm a bit taken aback to be accused of poetry. ;-)

[rivka.livejournal.com]

Poor l'il Alex. Feel better soon.

I'm hoping she'll feel better now that we've started alternating Tylenol and Advil. The Tylenol alone was just not keeping her fever down - she took some at 9, and by 11 she was flushed and hot and fussing.

The 'sing to sick child' mode is imprinted at muscle memory level for me.

It really feels like the bedrock of motherhood, doesn't it?

[wcg.livejournal.com]

I just feel like a mother.

And you're a very good one.

I hope little Alex is feeling better soon.

[jonquil.livejournal.com]

I remember those nights. Even though I was upset and worried and tired, I still knew that this was my calling.

For mine, with fevers, sometimes a lukewarm bath did make them feel better.

[ailbhe]

I never feel tired until they're well. It's very useful.

[oursin.livejournal.com]

I do hope she's better soon.

[treadpath.livejournal.com]

What a beautiful family you come from and what a beautiful family you're making. Alex is a very lucky girl! :)

[ratphooey.livejournal.com]

I remember that she never seemed worried or upset or annoyed or even tired.

My mother was the same way. How on earth did they manage that?

[janetmiles.livejournal.com]

Poor l'il Alex. I hope she feels better soon.

And Poor Rivka and Michael. Parenting is hard, sometimes.

[rivka.livejournal.com]

When Alex was an infant, I mentioned to my mother that I remembered her as always having things under control and knowing exactly what to do.

She laughed for about five minutes straight.

[ratphooey.livejournal.com]

Heh. Yes.

[rivka.livejournal.com]

The hardest part is that she just doesn't understand what's happening to her, and there's only so much we can do to explain it. When she threw up, she was completely shocked and dismayed and confused. And she kept telling me last night, "I want to SLEEP." She didn't understand why she was awake, or why I couldn't help her sleep.

She's starting to get some of the very basics - she can express that "Alex doesn't feel good," and she can even explain that "I have a fever." She understands that medicine is supposed to help you feel better, and that we went to the doctor to find out what is wrong. But boy, she just doesn't understand why we can't make her feel better right away, and that's rough.

[bosssio.livejournal.com]

parenting a sick kid, I have found, is both the hardest but also the most connected part of parenting. Instinctively, perhaps, I know how I should act - calm, in control, soft, soothing - even when I am terrified or confused or exhausted on the inside.

Anthony knows about "getting better" medicine. Interestingly, he asks for some when he is well, but when he is sick, he absolutely refuses to take any. It is actually one way we know how sick he really is.

Liam has been teething the last few days, which has been hard on us- he wakes up screaming and takes a long time to get to sleep. I think we are over the worst of it - he went down pretty easily, despite a 4 hour nap (he slept until 6pm!) today. The only reason why I didn't wake him up is because I actually fell asleep with him and only woke up myself at 5:45.

I hope Alex feels better very soon! And you and Michael get some sleep.

We will have our trip in a few weeks, I hope!

[johnpalmer.livejournal.com]

I suppose you can take some comfort that, up until now, you've been the perfect parents who make everything better.

Prayers and all the long-distances strength and healing vibes I can muster are yours if you want them for your family.