There’s been an email going around for years called something like, “Before I was a Mom.” One of the lines in the poem is
I never felt my heart break into a million pieces
When I couldn’t stop the hurt.
Feels like home has been comparatively quiet for the last couple of weeks. Grace is sick. First, she was teething, then got an ear infection. The ear infection came and went and came back and moved between her inner and outer ear. For a few days, she had a fever of 102, sometimes higher. She’s had several different antibiotics and ear drops and steroids. This morning, she started vomiting; this afternoon, diarrhea began. To put it mildly, my mind has been elsewhere.
Each day she’s sick, my heart aches. It’s like someone has ripped my heart out and stepped on it, over and over. I’ve done everything I can to make her feel better and keep her comfortable while her body fights the infection. There’s nothing else I can do.
Intellectually, I know that I’ve done everything I could do. But yet my heart hurts because what I’ve done seems so painfully inadequate.
I never even imagined this before I was a mom.
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