Updated: July 2, 2020
Originally Published: May 19, 2016
When I learned that strep throat was making its way through my daughter’s second-grade class, I let out a familiar sigh—the kind that only a seasoned parent truly understands. My daughter, generally a picture of health, is often the first to fall ill whenever strep makes its rounds.
True to form, within two days, she was home with a fever, sore throat, and a pounding headache. The pediatrician confirmed my fears, and I promptly canceled my appointments for the day. As we prepared to settle in for a few days of recovery, I knew I would be juggling work with caring for my feverish child.
Upon returning home, my daughter instantly lunged for the TV remote, thrilled by the prospect of unlimited screen time while she recuperated. I plopped down beside her, laptop at the ready, intent on catching up on work emails. Yet, about half an hour into The Princess Bride, something unexpected occurred.
“Mom! Can you hold my hand?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. I looked over at my eight-year-old, who was sprawled across the couch, extending her small hand towards me.
This was the same child who had recently outgrown public displays of affection, now invested in her appearance and the coolness of her backpack. She had even opted for a trendy haircut to look “awesome.” Gone were the days of bedtime rituals that included extra hugs and kisses.
“Absolutely,” I replied, trying to keep my excitement in check. “Come closer.” She nestled against my side, leaning her warm forehead against my shoulder. I wrapped my arm around her, feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over me. We sat in that cozy embrace, reminiscent of the days when she was a toddler, but I felt the pressure to remain still, not wanting to disrupt the moment.
We watched the entire movie together. My emails and notifications went ignored, my coffee turned lukewarm, and the unwashed dishes in the sink became a distant memory. All that mattered was the simple pleasure of sharing that moment with my daughter as we cheered for the Man in Black.
After the movie, her energy seemed to return, so we dug into the Lego bin and spent the afternoon constructing an impressive tower. I only paused long enough to text my husband that the fever had finally broken.
With our masterpiece complete, we ordered chicken soup for takeout, and I read aloud three chapters of Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH. It was, without a doubt, one of the most delightful days I had spent with her in ages. When my husband returned with our other children, I felt a twinge of sadness at the end of our magical day.
The experience reminded me of when she was my only child, the center of my universe. Now, she was older, funnier, and smarter, and I felt like I was discovering her all over again. I sensed she felt the same, as she kissed my cheek at bedtime, thanking me for a wonderful day before drifting off to sleep.
The next morning, with her antibiotics doing their job, she donned her favorite sneakers and packed her homework. At drop-off, she gave me a quick one-armed hug and dashed off to join her friends, leaving me with a smile and a bittersweet feeling as she embraced her growing independence.
Yet, I took comfort in knowing that there are still a few quiet moments left when she will reach for my hand. For more insights on parenting and home insemination, check out our other blog posts, including this one that provides valuable information. Resources like this guide are also great for learning more about the process of home insemination. For additional information on fertility, visit Cleveland Clinic’s podcast which offers excellent insights into pregnancy and related topics.
In summary, while sick days can bring their share of challenges, they also offer unexpected opportunities for connection and bonding with our children.