She has mono and a sinus infection, and appears to be getting worse by the day. I look at her, with her pale skin and bloodshot eyes and red nose, listen to her hacking cough, and wish I could take it all from her, make her discomfort and pain go away. Like most mothers, I would give anything to suffer her pain for her, to take it all on just to see her smile. But magical powers have eluded me, and my helplessness (combined with a healthy dose of exhaustion) transformed me last night into a useless onlooker simply fighting the urge to faint.
It will take me a lot longer to forgive myself than it will for my daughter to forgive me my lapse in caretaking. She is still sleeping peacefully this morning, and I am hoping when she wakes she will remember the chaos of last night as a bad dream. Even if she recalls it with clarity, she is not one who is normally in the habit of pointing fingers or blaming others -- even mom -- for her misery. If past behavior is any indication, she will just laugh at herself and roll her eyes at me. I hope.
My heart has stopped racing, I feel a bit rested after a rare decent night's sleep, and I am counting on a better day today. The one email I received last night from my most steadfast abuser was only mildly abusive, and I was able to delete it without allowing the words to linger or do further damage to my already battered psyche. Except for a few noises in my head (mostly debating whether I should stay home today and feel helpless or go to work and get some vicarious thrills from the retail therapy of others), I woke to a quiet morning. No coughing, no whimpering dog, no emails suggesting that I am a horrible person who has somehow caused problems over which I have no control.
Life can be dizzying these days, and there is nothing like a sick child to put everything else in perspective. I'm aiming low today. All I want for her -- and for me -- is some good steady breath.
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