When He Hurts

So do I.

I can remember when I was a little girl, the safest most secure place I felt was in the arms of my mother.   When I was sick, she made me feel better.  When I was down, she cheered me up.  My mother was and still is the greatest mom in the world.   She’s a Super Mom and I aspire to be like her one day.   I just wish that one day would start right now.

The comfort of my mother’s arms was always the most soothing thing in the world.  It’s like she was my fairy godmother and had this innate ability to wrap her magical arms around me and suck out any sickness I had.  She would wrap me in her love and never once would I see her flinch, cry, or shudder at the thought that her child was suffering, nor did she ever doubt her abilities as a mother to heal me.   Unfortunately, I don’t fall into that same category.

Davey came down with a fever on Monday night.  I attributed it to the fact that he’s teething, although there are mixed notions about fevers and teething going hand in hand.  

Tuesday we went to the doctor, where he had his 6 month shots.  Each time gets a little bit better for me, but I still hurt for him so much.   And to make matters worse, I’m contributing to his suffering because the nurse usually has me hold his wrists so that he won’t smack her away as she tries to give him his shots.   I can only imagine the vile and horrible things he thinks about me as this is happening.  Or the fact that he’s looking into my eyes the entire time, screaming, and wondering why his own mother would participate in causing him such agony.  Yes, this goes through my head.

Anyways, after the shots, it’s normal for a child to run a fever.  Davey never has, but by Tuesday afternoon, he had a fever of 101.9.   I gave him Tylenol and did my best to soothe him and calm him down.   Eventually he fell asleep in my arms.

Flash forward a few hours, and he’s running a fever again albeit not as high…100.7.   I give him Tylenol and watch as his little heads lies into the crook of my arm at the elbow and falls asleep.   My husband gets a cold wash cloth and I put it to my son’s head as his lower lip quivers a bit and my heart aches a little more.  

By bed time, his fever was gone but he was cranky and irritable and was shedding tears of pain, pain from his teething.   As my husband got his bottle ready, I tried to summon up my memories of my mother.  I wrapped Davey tightly into my arms and rocked him, humming a lullaby, whispering “i love you” into his ear, and tried with all my heart to have my mother’s magical abilities.   I closed my eyes and I did my best to will the pain from my son, but it didn’t work.  And as he looked up at me, tears streaming down his face, I felt the salty drops of my own tears hit my lips.  

When a mother says she feels the pain of her child, don’t ever doubt it.  I agonized last night over Davey only because I felt helpless and unable to do the one thing that he needed most from me…the healing arms of a mommy.   Oh, I have arms, but I wonder if the healing abilities skipped me.  I certainly hope not, because it’s going to be a long, long life if so.

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