Today, I’m sick. Like in bed, moaning, with tissues all around me and medicine (tums, tylonal and saline nasal spray) on the floor and a million pillows in various formations in an attempt to get comfortable. I don’t know what I have but I know cures are limited because I’m housing an infant inside me who says most drugs are a no, no. Waaaah!
I can’t sleep because I can’t breath and I can’t breath because a) everything that enables one to breath is clogged and b) I have an infant crushing my lungs. Should I go on? Oh I will… my throat hurts, my head hurts, my lips are chapped, and my right butt cheek hurts (but I think that’s unrelated to sickness and more to baby).
All of these things stink, for sure, but bellied-up right next to all my discomfort, the most lovely thing happened this morning. I was half awake/half dead to the world when I faintly heard Joe say to Miles, “No, no buddy. Don’t go wake up Mommy. We are going to let her sleep today and Daddy is going to stay home and work.”
The kindness of this man, I tell you. He didn’t ask me if I needed him to take over. He didn’t come in, kiss my head, say “hope you feel better”, and head out to work. He made the decision for me that he was going to take care of me. That’s one good husband.
As I’m typing, I can hear him now, outside my bedroom door, answering ten million questions about Buzz Lightyear and swimming lessons and I think I heard something about a bow tie. (?) haha.
He is juggling his world and my world so that I can lay in this bed and moan and half sleep and half breath and, hopefully, feel better soon.
Goodness, I love him.