Pea is in the throes of her first stomach bug. It started about 36 hours ago, and although she seems to be on the mend pretty rapidly, it is scary. She woke up about 4 am two nights ago and threw up a little bit. I changed her sheets and got her back to bed. She was sick most of yesterday, refusing to eat her favorite foods and just a little lethargic. Although I should add here that her hour-long trip to the “big park” with her Daddy didn’t slow her down at all.

So last night she woke up a couple of hours after going to sleep in a mess of vomit and she was so upset. Not because she was in any discomfort, because she didn’t really seem to be too bad off. She was upset because she had “doodah” on her. Which should make you giggle a little when you learn that doodah is her word for… poop. She was clearly a little confused as to what this new gross stuff was all over herself and her bed. So we got her cleaned up in the bath, threw her linens into the washer and set about remaking her bed with a fresh set of sheets. And I will tell you here that rather than getting her right back to bed, she had to snuggle on the couch in the den with Daddy and watch “Dora” because… mama is a dingbat and bought only one of those waterproof bed sheet protector things. Ugh. So we had to wait for that to wash and dry before we could make her bed up. Note to self: get to Target and stock up on those things!

She went back to bed, but I went with her. I slept with her in her little twin bed. I just had to. She needed comfort and I needed to offer it to her. It wasn’t an ideal set-up and I didn’t sleep well at all, but I loved every minute of it. I love that little Pea so fiercely that it hurts sometimes. Especially when she’s sick.

She’s better today. She was so exhausted at bedtime that she curled up next to me at story time and didn’t make it past the first page.

And as I was sitting in her room with her, watching her sleep, I was feeling so sad that she’s sick and that there’s really nothing that I can do for her right now except offer her comfort and hold her hair back while she throws up. I admit it: I was feeling kind of sorry for us. We’ve been through what I think is a lot – too much – with our health in the past year. It seems the bad days have outweighed the good days.

And then…

I come upstairs to an email from my husband which he forwarded to me from a close friend of his who just had a little girl in late August. They found a mass in her tiny, precious little body. It needs to be removed and then sent out for a biopsy. Can you imagine? I can’t. I cannot imagine a worse fate than having to face this with one of my children. It’s beyond devastating. And although the doctors seem to think that it’s not cancerous, I’d imagine right now that’s of some, but not a lot of, comfort to her parents. Because there’s still the chance. The unknown. The “what if.”

And suddenly, I’m not feeling sorry for us. At all. We may have colds. We may have allergies and stomach bugs. But we are healthy. I’m going to say a thank you prayer tonight for that much.

I’m also going to be saying a prayer that this sweet and innocent little munchkin, out there in a hospital in NY with her sad parents at her side, is also going to be healthy. I have a good feeling about her prognosis, too. I don’t know why, but I just do. I need to.