and face all sorts of girl drama knowing that everything will be okay,
but the real trial for me is when Z gets sick.
Simply put, I hate it when she gets sick,
because I also get sick --
soul-sick, worried-sick, paranoid-sick.
I don't even care if I actually get physically sick -- that I can handle --
but my heart just breaks for that child,
and I can't calm myself or relax,
not until she's better.
Last night her fever went up, and this morning, it's even higher,
but she can't hold down any medicine.
On top of that, she has a runny nose, a cough, and the chills.
Hopefully her doctor will see us today,
but I'm afraid we'll get the usual
"it's probably just a virus, we'll wait and see"
diagnosis, and no meds, and no comfort.
I get it -- children get sick, and children heal --
but when I hear stories
about complications or worse,
it shakes me to my very center.
Parenthood gives us so many gifts,
but it also gives us fear,
and that fear changes us.
It can make us better parents,
but it can also make us c r a z y.
Here's hoping for a speedy recovery for BOTH of us.
The part of me that is still capable of rational thought
knows that she'll be okay in a few days,
but the part of me that is consumed by "what if's"
won't quiet itself until Z is herself again.
ETA: Just got back from the doc's. It's a virus, so we'll just need to focus on keeping Z hydrated until it works itself out. Poor kid.