Today, my granddaughter, who I lovingly dubbed "Max" before she was born, is sick today. There is nothing worse than your child being sick or hurt. You watch them and feel completely helpless to make them better. It has always been a difficult time for me, because I have a tendency to want to do something and fix it. It is particularly heart wrenching when it is a small child. "Mini Me" called me for motherly support as she tries to help and comfort my "Max". With six kids ("Super Son" was all grown up when he arrived) to raise, I am sure you can imagine that we had a few illnesses in our years, although I must admit that we had relatively few.
I do remember a couple of earaches, and one trip to the emergency room with a seven year old with a case of croup. There were a few stomach viruses. "Calvin" never handled those well. As intelligent as he is, he couldn't figure out that he should use a bucket or God forbid get to a bathroom. As a little one, he would simply lay on his back and let it spew straight up like a volcano and come back down on him. (Hope you weren't eating lunch just then!)
I will never forget four children with Chicken Pox at the same time! The girls seemed to take it all in stride. They were somewhat itchy but were easily distracted by the puppets we made out of socks to keep them from scratching themselves. "Mommy" enjoyed a few days home with her siblings and liked the extra attention. She even got a special showing at the "Robot Breakfast" at school. (All of the second graders at her school were required to make working robots and then a breakfast was held to show them off.) "Calvin" however, absolutely broke my heart. He had Chicken Pox everywhere, he was feverish and just plain didn't feel good. Every time he would try to play he would get overheated and that only resulted in more Chicken Pox. He would follow me around the house and whimper ALL DAY LONG! The day would finally end with him collapsing in a heap at my feet. Once I got used to not tripping over his little body, I would just cover him with a blanket and put his head on a pillow and leave him where he collapsed. We were both exhausted and I did not want to risk waking him up.
Taking care of sick children is exhausting. Until recently, I was never quite sure that I knew where my strength came from at those times. I do now. God always provides! Those of you with chronically children are probably scoffing at me and you should. The love you have and the strength that God gives you to withstand is a true miracle. As moms we always appreciate the extra hands of friends or a husband who is willing to relieve you even for a little bit. Nothing is better than having your own mommy to lean on! Hang in there moms, keep support lines open and use them when you need to. You need to take care of yourself and be taken care of sometimes too! Hang in there "Mini Me", give my girl a kiss and know that this will pass. I love you!!!
Wife, Mother, Mother, Mother, Mother, Mother, Mother, Mother, Nurse, Grandmother, Friend...that's me in a nutshell!