Sophie was feeling under the weather, that was clear. The other week, she’d had bronchitis. This week, it began with high fevers and long-jump vomit. Gold medal!
At the doc’s, the doctor quickly shoved an extra-long Q-tip up one of her nostrils. (To his great credit, he never pretends something is going to be simple or painless. He’d said, ‘Yeah, this is the snotty swab. Doesn’t feel good. Hurts for a sec. But I’ll make it fast.’)
Her panic reflex rightly kicked in, horribly, in that second. She began clawing at his hands until I took her hands in mine. It was over. She cried for two seconds, took a deep breath, calmed herself.
I felt tears somewhere way, way back behind my eyes. Because in that moment of panic, her flailing was just the flailing she did as an infant whenever she was panicked or hurt.
And because now, she’s learning she must deal with her own discomfort, her own pain.
We went back to the waiting room, where my baby smiled at all the other babies and commented on their cuteness. Then she read. I cannot get her out of a book, even when sick. Fifteen minutes later, we had the diagnosis: official flu, nothing we could do except fluids, Tylenol (which made her puke, so scratch that), and sleep.
Slept seven hours a day, ten at night. Burning with fever. Throwing up.
Four days later, she has just emerged from her bed-cocoon.
Curled up in my bed, sipping juice, we had a talk about honesty and lies. She said she was frustrated with the lack of stories in her life. She felt boring, she said. I told her the only safe place for lies was books. There, I said, they get transformed into something good. I told her I lied a lot as a kid, and I didn’t have many friends. I told her I thought the two were related. I told her I understood the need to feel special, but that lying wasn’t worth it and she should take it from me. That she was a great kid, and soon she would have more stories than she could even remember. She looked skeptical. But she’s considering the concept, I can tell.
Paper white, with brown circles under her eyes, she got up, thinking. And she did some writing. The beginning of a book.
She is now watching TV.
Now I’m going to make her some toast, fetch her some more juice. Her dad is coming over to visit with her and her sister.
The kid may be worn out, but she even handles flu gracefully.
{ 14 comments… read them below or add one }
She sure is a strong kid. She reminds me of her mother…:)
I’m glad she’s feeling better. My daughter just had that horrible stomch flue and it was horrendous! She would gulp any water we gave her because she was so parched, and then do the projectile puke. Once, we were laying her down to change her diahreah diaper, and she puked into the air and it landed in her eyes. Poor, poor baby. I’m glad your sweet girl is over the worst of it and I’m glad she had you while she was sick. Good job, mama!
What a great conversation to have with a daughter. I hope she is all better very soon.
My kids were all sick throughout our vacation. It started out with my youngest daughter throwing up at a restaraunt–really fun. I got it, too, when my youngest son, who is two, was so sick he could barely lift his head. I recognize the sleepy days and sleepless (for me) nights. Although, I guess it is nature’s way of telling me I need to slow down. Nothing–not grad school work, not bills, not school, is more important than a conversation with a child held over barely-kept-down apple juice when they are recouperating from an illness and contemplating life.
Beautiful post, Jenn.
At 72 and 45 respectively, my mother and I are only recently attempting the type of conversation you and Sophie had.
This is beautiful.
Some people go their whole lives without having such honest conversations. You are truly an inspiration.
Hope she is feeling better – the flu is the worst.
Tell her to keep a daily journal where she writes one thing that makes her unique or special, or an event she was involved in that was interesting or exciting.
It’s so hard to see ourselves through the daily grind that is life. Once she see’s the accumulation of traits that make up who she is, it will help her recognize how characters in a book are so exciting. It’s all in the condenced details.
She’s such a deep and introspective girl. She’s lucky to have a complicated chic for a mama.
poor sickie baby. Mine are sick too, but not with flu. I hope she is better soon and has some good stories. Maybe she should try writing about her dreams..there could be some good stories there. I often think that about my own..so who knows? Hope the visit with dad went well for all.
Oh yes the lies…they do begin to spin them at this age. Is totally age appropriate BTW.
The flu is brutal this year. I hope the rest of you stay well.
Rooo
Hey guys,
I made a “fans of Jennifer Mattern” page on Facebook. Let’s all join and show Jenn some love!
she does seem to do most things gracefully. hope sophie feels tons better
We have been ravaged by the flu here, too. It doesn’t make me have deep meaningful conversations with my kids though. You have a special kind of genius flu.
“I told her the only safe place for lies was books. There, I said, they get transformed into something good.”
I love that. I really do.
Hi There,
My kids have had the flu all week. And I just couldn’t help myself so I caught it too. I hear PCS has been running on empty. Mrs. G had a total of 2 kids in the third grade on Wednesday.
It’s strange how the kids look so Dickens waif-like. Looking toward healthier days for us all.
Love, Maribeth
Great post title!