My baby girl got what I thought was my food poisoning but what must instead be a bad virus I have been carrying for three days. Jon got a call from daycare at 3 pm today with the teacher reporting that Maria was throwing up and we should come and get her (like we were contemplating leaving her there…). Jon picked her up and before they got home (one mile away) she had thrown up twice. Man, I feel her pain and dread the night ahead knowing that she will likely be running to the bathroom and thirsty and throwing up and thinking “why me” in whatever fashion little four and a half-year old girls think those thoughts.
However, she has exceeded all expectations so far with her behavior and demeanor. I swear this girl of mine is an old soul and simply knows that this too will pass, and so she takes it with ease and resolve and lets it run its course. For the last two hours, she has run to the bathroom dry heaving or throwing up, then sitting on the toilet, head down, then standing up again, her strong arms grasping the sides of the toilet (for a moment I saw her coming home from a late night out with her girlfriends, her mama standing over the toilet with her trying to calm her down – please let that not happen or if it does, I guess I want to be the one that is there for her to make sure she is ok).
She peered up at me on the last round and asked for a bath. I started the water and she climbed in and immediately laid down with her head in the water. I let it get up to her ears and turned the water off. She lay there in that bathtub staring at the ceiling, hair flowing like a sea creature, body straight, feet and heels suspended right above the water. She looked magical. I feel her depth when I stare at her, especially in moments like these. She is an angel, a nymph, a fairy. She takes my breath away with her intrepidness and her unwavering courage.
When she got out of the bathtub and hit the toilet again, she laid down on the floor with a little moan. I looked down and sighed “I am so sorry baby girl.” No, she did not cry or whine or stomp her feet. She simply looked straight ahead and sharply requested “pat my back, mom” to which I immediately did.