“I’m sorry you’re so sick.” I say, as I hold her close to my chest.
“I’m sorry I’m sick too.” She says, as she runs her little finger up and down my arm.
“I just want you to get better so I can kiss you and tickle you and play hide and seek with you again.”
“You can kiss me on my head. Just not on my mouth. Because you’ll get sick like me.”
So, I place my lips on her head and kiss her over and over again. Her hair smells like strawberries.
She begins to cough and is unable to stop. She buries her face into my chest and she starts to cry.
“It hurts right here when I cough, Mommy.” She says through the tears.
I can feel the lump forming in my throat, the tears welling in my eyes. I begin to cry with her. “I know and I wish I could make it stop hurting. I’m sorry, Chunky Head. I’m so sorry.”
Last night things took a turn for the worse. A fever of 104.7, pain in her chest, her tummy, her head. It was awful to watch, knowing there was very little I could do to make it better. A trip to urgent care was made. “It’s a cold.” the doctor said. “Give her these medications and bring her back if she gets worse.”
Out the door we went.
I did my best to help her.
Tylenol. Water. Baths. Chicken noodle soup. Foot rubs.
And while those things helped ease the pain temporarily, they couldn’t relieve her entirely from her suffering.
I don’t want to see her suffering anymore. I don’t want to hear her weep because the coughing hurts. I don’t want her to wake up in the middle of the night sobbing because “she’s burning hot.”
I just want to hear her laugh and sing and be bossy with her brothers again.
I just want her to be healthy and whole again.
Hopefully, she will be. And hopefully it will be very soon.