The World is A Little Sweeter
LM was grumpy all day, whining and wanting to be held and generally miserable. Finally around 5:30 I took his temperature and found he had a fever of over 101 under his arm - and that was with my crappy thermometer that always seems to register lower than my basal one. I felt like such a moron - here I was dragging him out and around, pushing him in the swing at the park and trying to interest him in random passing dogs. Poor kid was probably thinking "Just take me home woman! Can't you feel I'm BURNING UP?" I am just not much of a worrier when it comes to illness so it never occurred to me that it might be something more than just teething. Of course by then the doctor's office was closed and I realised he'd probably had the fever for quite a while given how crappy he was acting all day. I called the Nurse Hotline in tears and spoke to a very sweet RN.
"Is it his first time being sick?" she asked.
"His first fever," I said.
"Well, he'll have plenty more," she said with a smile in her voice.
That was my second crying jag of the day. The first was when I was driving in the car and White Coat, Black Art was on. They were interviewing a doctor who specialises in counselling dying children. One of the things he does is help them come up with assignments for their families to remember them, because often these children are afraid they'll be forgotten. So it reassures the child to task the family with some sort of commemorative ritual, like asking them to eat the child's favourite meal every year on his or her birthday. I liked that idea.
The doctor being interviewed also said that dying children never ask "why me?" at least not in their discussions with him. Instead they worry about their parents: "Will mummy be okay?" When I heard that that, I started sobbing. Tears were rolling down my face. I had to pause and regain my breath after stopping the car.
I feel like motherhood has given me so much more empathy than I used to have. You'd think I'd have already had that sort of empathy towards the sick - having had one parent die slowly from cancer, and having another battle it off twice. I've seen a lot of death. But I don't think that story would have made me cry 10 months ago. Somehow since I've had a child the whole human race just seems a little more vulnerable and likable, and well... human.
With that, I'm off to cuddle my sweet, clammy boy.
"Is it his first time being sick?" she asked.
"His first fever," I said.
"Well, he'll have plenty more," she said with a smile in her voice.
That was my second crying jag of the day. The first was when I was driving in the car and White Coat, Black Art was on. They were interviewing a doctor who specialises in counselling dying children. One of the things he does is help them come up with assignments for their families to remember them, because often these children are afraid they'll be forgotten. So it reassures the child to task the family with some sort of commemorative ritual, like asking them to eat the child's favourite meal every year on his or her birthday. I liked that idea.
The doctor being interviewed also said that dying children never ask "why me?" at least not in their discussions with him. Instead they worry about their parents: "Will mummy be okay?" When I heard that that, I started sobbing. Tears were rolling down my face. I had to pause and regain my breath after stopping the car.
I feel like motherhood has given me so much more empathy than I used to have. You'd think I'd have already had that sort of empathy towards the sick - having had one parent die slowly from cancer, and having another battle it off twice. I've seen a lot of death. But I don't think that story would have made me cry 10 months ago. Somehow since I've had a child the whole human race just seems a little more vulnerable and likable, and well... human.
With that, I'm off to cuddle my sweet, clammy boy.
Labels: baby, motherhood
posted by grass @ 10:14 PM
2 Comments:
At 4:45 AM ,
LL said...
I teared up just at that little excerpt. The radio station near us in Chicago did a St. Jude's marathon every November and all these families and doctors would call in with stories. I was sobbing so hard last year I had to pull over my car, on the highway, twice while driving home from school.
And I really liked your title :)
At 6:18 AM ,
kaitlyn said...
I teared up too. Because for a child to worry that they would be forgotten, oh, so sad, and oh you would never forget your child, and is there anything more frightening than losing your child in the first place?
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