I'm a pretty hands-on Mom, most of the time. I'm here with my kids all day long. I take them places and see that stuff that needs doing gets done. I teach them. I feed them. I take care of them when they are sick. I try to anyway.
These last several weeks have been a struggle, because I haven't been able to do much other than dose child after child. Hardly anyone is hungry. No one has energy for more than watching TV. Life has slowed way down and not in the pleasant, old-fashioned way.
But things are on the mend. Five of my children are not feverish, do not have sore throats, and aren't coughing either. Unfortunately, my oldest daughter is not in that number. She's the child of 105 degree fevers and a cough that has had me worrying a lot. Today I took her in for a recheck of her lungs, and all was not well. We went for a chest x-ray, and all was not well. They checked her oxygen levels, and all was not well. They did a breathing treatment and checked her oxygen again, and all was not well.
She's in the hospital. I'm here at home. I know she'll be fine. Her dad is just as capable as I am to watch her in the hospital, but it pains me not to be there. It seems wrong not to be. What kind of mother am I? But my other children need me too. I tried several times to get out the door to be there with her, but something always seemed to stop me -- even with two friends in the house to watch the other kids and allowing me to go one little thing after another came up. Then I discovered the air-conditioning upstairs had come to a complete halt, and as I called and waited for the repairman, I had a feeling that the hospital was not where I was needed most.
My little girl is at the hospital, and I'm not there, but she's in good hands. I want to hold on to her, watch her take easier breaths and get better, but not tonight. Tonight, I pray at home, but her father and her Father are watching over her.