1 Mother 2 Another

Cora’s been sick since Monday
afternoon, and a nightmare of a nighttime – think fretting
child not sleeping more than ten minutes at a time before waking to
either a) throw up or b) cry and cling to you – led to a
similar Tuesday. I held off taking her to the doctor in the
morning, thinking it was just a stomach virus. But when she began
to complain of aching all over, and had had a headache since Monday
afternoon, I bowed to the possibility of strep and took her in.


So I was glued to Cora’s side all morning – rubbing her
feet, just lying next to her, distracting her with stories,
whatever – and trying desperately to stay awake, then dragged
us out of the house to get to the doctor. I was carrying my poor
girl and her throw-up bowl through the doctor’s office, Cora
a limp little doll in my arms, still in her pjs with no shoes on.
The verdict was a virus, so all we can do is hang in there and hope
it’ll get better soon.

At times like these, everything gets
stripped away except what’s truly important. I yearned
desperately for a nap and thought I’d get one in the morning:
surely no one can stay up all night and not doze during the day.
But Cora was too uncomfortable to sleep, so I didn’t either.
And I didn’t mind (much), since my being next to her was the
only thing that she wanted from me. While I navigated the
doctor’s office and car and such, Cora just burrowed deeper
into my arms, wrapping more tightly around me, reminding me of my
priorities.


As I came into the house after the doctor’s office, Cora
snuggled my neck and whispered hotly, “Mommy, you are my
star.”


Startled and not sure I heard her right, I said, “What, baby?
What did you say?”


Curling deeper into me, Cora repeated, “Mommy, you are my
star. You take such good care of me and love on me so much that it
makes me get better. Thank you, Mommy.”


How much better than this does it get?