The Mommy Blog | Adventures from the Wonderbelly of Motherhood

Friday, December 28, 2007

Finally, finally, all three children are unconscious. Only one had to be drugged, but I had a prescription for that.

Daphne threw up at least ten times today during at least two dozen attempts over a twelve hour period. She was miserable, and I was by her side constantly, running to the toilet with her every time she began to cry, holding back her hair and supporting her weight.

“This is the worst day of my life!”

“I know, honey, it’s awful being this sick.”

“I already prayed to God to make me better so I don’t have to throw up anymore.”

“Oh, hon, I don’t think there’s anything to be done; your body has to fight it off and beat the virus by itself.”

“You mean He can’t help?”

“I don’t know hon, there are only so many things he can attend to at once.”

“I hate this day.”

Finally, I called the pediatrician, who laughed and laughed as I told him that I’d been skipping pain meds in case he needed me to bring her in. You know, the ones I’m supposed to be taking for my neck injury. The very thought of me with three kids in the ER last night had him giggling—after he gave me advice for Daphne, of course, but he’s read my book and knows a good story when he hears it.

This is how sick she was: she said that she was so glad I called Dr. Mike, because then I could give her something that might stop her tummy hurting, even if it has to go up her bottom, and she couldn’t wait to go to sleep so that the day could be over with. Her pale little face, with the sticky bangs held back in one of my old clips, alligator jammies, bare feet, and earnest little arms held tight around my neck.

I tucked her into my bed with her Fur Berry and thought she’d be okay, but she came out fifteen minutes later clutching her tummy and crying, “Mama, make it stop!”

“Baby, I can’t make it stop. We’ve started the medicine and all we can do is wait. I’m so sorry I can’t take the hurt away.”

She climbed up into my lap. “Just try your best, okay, Mama?”

And so I held her tight as she fell asleep.

I thought we'd wake her up, laughing at Monty Python's Holy Grail. It was Logan's inaugural viewing. Dylan loved the cartoon graphics and bottom humor.