On ginger ale and eyelashes

Does anyone actually enjoy the flu?

I think I might be one of those crazy psychos who actually does.

Wait a minute…not in some clinical disorder-type way, like I enjoy projectile vomit or anything. Just for the record, 5 months of hyperemesis will turn ANYONE off regurgitation. Yay prescription drugs!

No, looking back on a weekend filled with this flighty flu bug (we all got it), I can say that the outcome has been enjoyable- in retrospect, of course. Is there ANYTHING worse than a sick kid? Especially if it’s yours? My friend L says that watching her son being wheeled in to surgery was pretty awful. And those first shots at the pediatrician are more painful to the mom than they are to the unsuspecting infant (I deny all knowledge of hanging on Dr. G’s coattails, pleading for mercy). But watching your 3-year-old bravely empty the contents of her stomach (for the umpteenth time) and then speak to her bellybutton: “Calm down, tummy, calm down”- it’s something I won’t ever forget.

And then there’s the movie moment when you look down at your suffering husband, who has rolled himself into a comforter burrito, and remember how gorgeous he is, and how, when he’s sick, he looks just like a little boy. And you pray in that moment that your unborn child will be blessed with those same eyelashes and curve of the chin.

In the end, wading through the fluids and thermometers and ginger ale, you know in those moments that it would be so much harder without Mom- and then you realize that you, sister, have become that mom. You are now the source of that warm, gooey comfort, that the instinctual longing for Mama is now satisfied through YOU, of all people.  

There’s something very…satisfying in that. So…blessed by the flu?

Absolutely.

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