mothering through sickness

Julie and I are on day eight and nine, respectively, of a miserable cold. As of yesterday, James has succumbed, as well. We have been lucky to have had minimal illnesses for eighteen months, but starting last month, everything has come at once. Fever, croup, and now this cold, which insists on dragging on for all of us. I know every parent knows the pain of this acutely, but there is nothing worse than a sick child. It breaks my heart. And then, there is the reality of parenting when you are sick yourself. To put it simply, it sucks.

When I was in school, I would look at my cats happily napping their days away, and be overcome with jealousy. Now, I look at anyone who can recover in bed, watching movies, and napping whenever the need hits, with that same envy. To be able to recover in bed seems like the biggest luxury in the world. (Right alongside sleeping in and spontaneous dates).

I love being a mother more than anything in the world. I have wanted this baby for as long as I can remember, and I am awash in gratitude every day. But...it is truly the hardest job--far beyond anything I ever could have imagined. There are moments when I feel like I cannot possibly go on. That I am too exhausted, stressed, sick, and have nothing more to give. It is then that my daughter reaches for me, rests her sweaty little head on my shoulder, and murmurs "Huggy". Or she cries and cries for me in the middle of the night, for only mommy will do. And in those moments, I find that there is an infinite well of strength within me fueled by love incalculable.