I'm finally beginning to feel normal again after what felt like a deadly spiral downward had taken over my body. Stomach flu is the worst kind of flu, and it has attacked 5 of 7 of us. And if we include the dogs, I may even dare to say it got them too.
I've been sick a lot this year. My immune system is as bad as it was whenever I was pregnant, and yet I am not pregnant. Tim, while in the throws of nausea (and everything else that comes with it) yesterday, looked at me and said, "If this is what pregnancy and morning sickness was like, you are Wonder Woman." Why, thank you babe. It only took you a few years to realize how much my body paid to earn these little angels (or demons...depending on the day). ;)
Honestly, being sick is the absolute worst. But I'd be lying if I didn't admit certain perks of sickness. The amount of cuddles and hugs a child generally needs grows exponentially. Even Mya reached out for my hand and cuddled into the nook of my body while I ran my fingers through her tear-stained hair. She hardly lets me hold her, so I relished her touch, even if it was burning hot and a little clammy.
And then there is my boy. Oh my boy. He had a terrible run of it. He had it, and then it went away, and then it returned with vengeance a day later. His round, pink cheeks begged for kisses. His teary eyes looked up at me with betrayal as if he was silently asking why I couldn't take this terrible feeling from him. It was pretty awful. I snuggled him tightly and repeated, "I'm sorry baby boy. I'm sorry you're so sick." I may or may not have kissed his cheeks every second he'd let me, which I can guarantee led to my own sickness, and not that it was worth it, but boy do I love to kiss his cheeks.
As we all come out of the thick fog that has tainted our home, I feel so much gratitude for my kids and my husband who rallied together and helped each other, even when it wasn't easy to do so. We all pushed through the nausea or pain to help someone else worse off than ourselves. My family is pretty great.
And now as I think of all the moments we've gone through the last few days, I can't help but link the tender moments to ones we have (with or without our knowledge or recognition) with God. The many times he waits with outstretched arms to hug or soothe our pain. I find myself thinking of him a lot as I carry my babies around, even though they are getting to be much bigger than babies. I tell myself to do it as long as they will let me because soon they won't ask anymore. And I'm sure that's a lot like God. He carried us for as long as we let him, and then we asked him to put us down, and he's just waiting for us to ask him to carry us again.
I could be wrong, but I don't think I am. I see so many parallels in my parenting life to what I imagine the life of God to be like (obviously his is filled with a lot more patience and zero swearing), but you know the good sides of my parenting. And everyday I feel so grateful for his patience, his outstretched hand, his millions of bandaids, and his love.
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"Be kind and considerate with your criticism... It's just as hard to write a bad book as it is to write a good book." Malcolm Cowley