How can it be, such a small child, lying in her crib. Her tears of pain from the illness ripping out my heart. Every cough tempting me to jump up and gather her in my arms, holding her tight. But I know, she must sleep, must get rest.
Her eyes red, puffy. Her nose irritated by all the wiping. Her hands clammy and cold. Her little body fighting.
When your little girl is sick your heart is pulled from its chest, run through the deadliest devices and pushed back into your chest.
How to explain to one so small that it will end, you don’t, you cant, they wont understand. But you want them to. You so want to make them know all will be better, just in time.
She still smiles, plays, runs around and acts happy. But that is short bursts, mostly sits in her chair and looks at me as if I should be able to free her of the horrible illness that has taken her. I know it is only time for her to be well again, but a couple weeks to me is so much longer to her.
It will pass I tell myself, even as she lays crying against me, it will pass.
