Early this morning – before 4 – I awoke to the sound of Julia crying. Sobbing. Had to be a bad dream. So I got out of bed and flipped the hall light on and went into her bedroom.
She was huddled under her thick pink comforter, still crying and crying and crying. I rubbed her back and told her it was okay, I was there…but she kept crying. I thought maybe she was still half asleep.
Her back felt really warm, and, figuring it was partly due to the winter pajamas and the thick comforter AND all the crying, I told her we should take her jammies off. At that point she became quite lucid and said “Mama, I have to go pee.” She scurried to the bathroom, and I figured maybe that was part of the problem.
A moment later - “MAMA! I THINK I’M GONNA THROW UP!”
I held her hair while she did just that.
And I’d like to pause here and say how wonderful it is that both my children are old enough to make it to the bathroom for about 85% of their middle-of-the-night vomiting. It beats smelly impromptu loads of sheets and blankets and pajamas.
Anyway, she finished up – still crying – and we went downstairs to the couch in the basement. I found something benign on tv, gave her a plastic bucket to use if she felt the urge again, and snuggled with her.
Eventually she had some water, and once she’d kept that down, I gave her some tylenol to help get her temp down – don’t know what it was, but it was certainly higher than normal.
She eventually dozed off – for hours.
Fast forward to later this afternoon. She been snoozing on and off in the same big comfy chair, and hadn’t had much to eat or drink.
“Do you want something to eat?”
“How about some water?”
“Maybe a little bit of banana?”
She was quiet for a moment, and then she came over to where I was (at the computer, like I am now) and looked at me, her face very mature, very serious.
Her voice had gained fifteen years when she spoke:
“Mama…I’m not hungry right now. Can’t you just respect that?”
I stared at the girl before me for a moment and then said “Yes, Julia, I think I can.”