when you are sick

Dear Lena,

You’re definitely on a roll with this sickness thing. You had a fever Thursday night, it peaked in the wee hours of the morning and seemed to be gone by your doctors appointment at 1:30. We proceeded with your appointment which included your booster flu shot and thought all was well. (Aside from the incredible shrinking Lena saga, but that’s another story) Friday night you became grouchy and lethargic, Saturday was the same: more grouch more lethargy. You played with Papa for the evening and then we had a night. It was one of those nights, the ones you see on every sitcom, every commercial for x,y,z cold remedy product.

Mutti got a total of an hour sleep if you cobbled together all of the times I dozed off while holding you upright. A combination of the rattling rapid breathing and the oven your little body was turning our side of the bed into kept me awake. It is times like last night that I truly felt like a mother. The worry, the hand wringing, the mopping your head, the counting haggard breaths. I felt that I couldn’t possibly sleep, that I shouldn’t sleep, because what if I missed something? What if you took a turn for the worse and I was drooling away? I love you so much my Lena bear, I’m sorry for checking your temperature around the clock and dragging a cool rag across your feverish brow. It’s all that Mutti can do to feel like I’m helping you.

You are asleep now nestled next to your Vati, hopefully dreams are in store for Mutti tonight, this mothering business is exhausting, but oh so worth it.



This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s