I am a needy sick person.
Even into my high school years, I wanted my mom to sit on the edge of the bed and read me books. And when it was time for me to sleep, I still preferred she sit there so I wouldn't be alone. She made me malt-o-meal, birdie bites (bites of toast with cinnamon and sugar) and bought all my favorite juices. There was (and still is) nothing better than my mom when sick.
Henry got his first fever this weekend. Followed by an exhausting night of crying, moaning and no sleeping until 4 a.m. Even with medicine to bring his fever down, his nose is running and eyes red and watery.
The hard part is I can't make him birdie bites or reassure him that in a few days he'll feel back to normal again. I can't lay on the couch and watch daytime TV as a special treat. Instead I rocked him, let him sleep in my arms for hours, didn't pull my hair away when he wanted to twirl it around his fingers and googled "baby fevers" once every hour.
If I could control it, I would have him never be sick again. I'd certainly be less sleep deprived. But it's cool to remember that when he does get sick, he'll always want his mama.