Honor and Humility
We’ve had a long Winter this year, full of childhood illnesses. Being the youngest and most vulnerable, N has been hit the hardest. While I have, admittedly, lost a lot of sleep, days of work, and occasionally perspective (what is this dark terrible magic that has crept into my child’s eye causing it to pink and ooze? should I just give the pediatrician’s office a direct line to our savings now and call it a day? why can’t I lactate on demand?), I’ve also felt a great deal of honor and humility.
Nothing can humble a mighty mother so quickly as a sick child. The very same baby you held in your arms not so long ago, now struggling to breathe and gasping through the night. The endless coughing that seems to respond to nothing and no one. The crying that you can only try to console with your own arms because the rest has to come with time. There is no way to fix it in this moment. All you can do is be there, witness, console. But also, oh, what an honor to be the one whose arms comfort a sick child. To be the one to bring the heating pad and the tea and the picture books.
To be the one whose mere presence makes it all just a little bit better. For that, I am grateful.
*Note: Please do not get the wrong impression. N will be ok. It’s just been quite a haul getting her feeling well again.