Life Raft

Her face is white as a sheet, her brown eyes big and round with fear.   "Am I going to be okay, Momma?"

Greta is sick, her fever spiked scary-high, and she just threw up.    Her body feels like it is on fire.   

I brush her hair back from her face and give her a peaceful smile.  "Yes, honey, you're going to be fine.   Try to get some sleep."

Inside I'm boiling over with anxiety, and I try not to let her see.    I'm fairly sure it's a flu virus - it feels a lot like the swine flu we had back in the fall.   I almost wish it had some media-hyped name to it, so at least I'd know what I'm dealing with.  

I tiptoe out of her room and quietly shut the door.   I can't call the doctor's office yet, they don't open for another hour.   

It's so strong, mother-love.    Each and every time my children are sick, I want to beg the heavens to make them better, give it to me if it has to go somewhere, just please spare them.   

I find a quiet room and I get down on my knees.   I don't beg the heavens for anything except the strength to carry on minute-by-minute.   I don't ask for a miracle, because that doesn't seem fair.     I pray that I can keep my head in the game, stay calm in front of her, ease her anxiety.    I think of the parents out there with chronically sick children, who live in this fear each and every day.    I send prayers their way, too.

It calms me, for a moment.    I sneak a glance into Greta's room;  she is sound asleep, her breathing raspy and her lips are bright red.    I put my hand on her back and hum a song to her.    The world suddenly feels big and scary to me, like we're floating madly adrift on the vast ocean with only a tiny raft between us and disaster.     I push the fear down, and tuck the blanket around Greta.  

Twenty more minutes until I can call the doctor.   I'll just take it as it comes, like I always do, because I don't have another option even though I like to think I do.    When things are sailing along uneventfully the illusion of control is easier to maintain.   When tough times come, like a sick kid, I'm reminded that I'm on that tiny life raft all the time, I just don't notice until I feel fear.

For some reason this thought comforts me.  

It's a day like any other, and events will unfold the way they are meant to unfold.

I'll try to do the next right thing, take it one minute at a time, and we will be okay, because we'll be where we are supposed to be.