Leila wasn’t herself yesterday, lethargic and whiney. I happily left the house at 6:00 to head out for my run clinic, leaving the noise and chaos behind me. When I got home a few hours later, Steve told me Leila had gotten sick.
She got sick again at nine. Then at ten. Then every half an hour until four this morning, when it slowed down a little. She can’t keep down water or apple juice. She had a juice popsicle (one I made of plain apple juice), and it all came back up. an hour ago, I gave her a bath, cleaned her hair and face. Don’t wash my belly, Mommy, it’s too sore she pleaded. i changed er into a clean nightie, changed her sheets, cleaned the toilets and mopped the floor, trying to keep the germs in control. I laid her on the couch after she pathetically pleaded for me to stay close and she was asleep within minutes. Pale, lethargic and so sick.
Obviously, I didn’t sleep, up with her all night. But something happens when my kids are sick. Any other day I’d be snappy and crabby, but I’ve been spinning laundry and cleaning and rocking her in the chair and humming in her ear. Alena felt warm this morning to my touch, but I sent her to daycare because I knew what this day would be like.
There is nothing more pathetic and heartbreaking than the limp body of your sick child in your arms, puke breath and all.