Gee... I started to write this entry about my thankfulness without even realizing the time of year. And then when I had to title it, I realized it is a pretty timely matter. :-)
Sami was sick this whole past week. I'm talking SICK, and I'm talking it went on for 7 days. Just stop here if you're squeamish, but she had diarrhea and intermittent vomiting for 7 days straight. That's a long time, and usually--from what I understand--a child of 14 months would normally get pretty dehydrated, and have a much more serious reaction to this type of stomach flu than what we experienced. But it was still traumatic for me--made so by this being her first "real" illness that I've experienced that I couldn't "fix" with my Doctor Mom theories, which I hold in abundance. And yet she never once acted like she felt sick, or like she hurt... blessedly.
Anyway, there is a whole other story of my feelings of incompetence in this situation, and another one of the Mama Bear coming out in me when my Baby Bear was sick, and my lashing out at Papa Bear for some bad but inadvertent decisions.
But currently she's all better. Robust, healthy, great appetite, happy, funny, sunny... and so tonight--well, really all day--I've been especially aware of and appreciative of my daughter's restored good health. It culminated at dinner tonight. I made us each a grilled cheese sandwich, and served it up to her with some oranges, and some cooked carrots. And she ate so eagerly but so cutely. Now I know that just sounds stupid, but she was just this little delight all day long. And when we sat down for dinner, and I cut her sandwich (and mine) into 4 diagonally-cut triangles, she just enjoyed it so much. I have this weird affinity for dipping my grilled cheese sandwiches into ketchup. Well, dipping is a huge attraction with Sami right now, but if I give her access to said dip, it is just a nonstop dipping disaster, up to her elbows. So instead, we compromised, and I dipped on her behalf. But that didn't diminish the joy she took in dipping "like Mom."
She ate every last bite, and was so very fun at dinner with me. Giggling, and giving me pretend bites, but then pulling it away from me at the last second and popping it into her own mouth with such delight in tricking me.
That's when her dad called on the phone from work, and he goes, "What are you doing?" I answered, "Nothing." But my voice betrayed that I was kind of emotional, and he picked up on it right away, and goes, "What's wrong?" And I said, more or less, "Well, that's just it. There's nothing wrong. And I'm feeling all..." He knows he's treading in murky waters when I say anything like that. Am I sad, or happy, or psychotic.... or what? I said, "I'm just so thankful for Sami, and for her feeling so good again, and I can't help thinking about parents who have a child that doesn't get better."
He truly cannot even bear such thoughts. So he mostly didn't even respond to that. But his lack of response is his response in these cases, I've learned.
Then, as if I wasn't humbled enough... later I was giving her a bath, which was just another delightful event of the day. She was having a ball, and figured out a new way to dump water out of a toy cup, then put it on her head, and I thought about all the times that Michael and I look at each other and question... reverently... out loud but hushed... "...do all parents love and enjoy their children this much?" And usually, out of a sense of humility, I decree that all parents must.
And then you hear about our current local headline news item--about the father who is a "person of interest" in his daughter's death. And the estranged mother that hasn't spoken or seen the daughther for nearly 4 years.
And right in the middle of her happy bathtime, my stomach wrenched, and I got tears in my eyes that I took pains to hide from Sami.
Monday, November 21, 2005
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