Monday

Last week, in the middle of the baking and the playing and the shell collecting and the oh my goodness we have less than a week until vacation, a mean virus took hold. We thought it was just a little cough. But, it was cruel.  Still, it only attacked one in our midst and we were set to carry on. Until the second got hit. Joy's lungs are a little more reactive. She doesn't have asthma, but coughs can go down to her lungs and croup like coughs are just god-awful. Luckily, this round did not include the cough until you throw up fun of previous encounters. Yippee. We did have fever and rattly breathing and the tell tale bark-like inhale when really worked up. I say had hopefully. Tonight, she sleeps. And breathes without a rattle or a rasp. 

This morning, she was full of needs, and her big sister, fresh in to her vacation and fresh out of daddy, was not thrilled. 'Why does Joy get all the attention?' It's not a question I ever wanted to hear, and I know even a six and a half year old doesn't understand that sick babies need more everything. Here was another chance to remind my babies that the world isn't fair, that if we're lucky, we get what we need, not what we want, and that I cannot possibly divide myself equally. 

What they don't know is that my love has no divisions. It is whole and full and encompasses them so completely that my boundaries blur and fade in my passion for them. I can hope they feel the love, but I don't know if it's something that is understandable until you are a parent. I certainly didn't know how deeply my mom loves  me before I had my girls.

A friend's daughter had a rare (and luckily not too important) disease this fall. It was scary until they found out it's identity, and we ran into each other right in the midst of that. Our conversation, short, but sweet, ventured into areas we hadn't gone. Miscarriage. Marriage. I love my husband, I do. I love that he surprises me, that he is stronger and softer than I expect. But I know that I survived okay without him once. And marriage did change my life, but it didn't change who I am fundamentally. Not like having children. No, I am not who I was, and I do not know if I would be okay without them. 

So when my baby struggled, briefly, for air last night, a deep and primeval fear reared it's head. I did all the things the doctors and nurses told me to do. And my mind ran circles around us, trying to create a boundary of protection from that terror.

Tonight, I hope to sleep again, still cuddled next to my slightly feverish, stuffy girl. I need to hear that breathing.