I lie sleepless on a pile of blankets on the floor. I stroke the small blond hairs off the feverish head of my daughter as she lets out soft whimpers in her sleep. There is no bed for either of us tonight. The bed has turned scary. The security that was once her owl blanket now tumbles in the washing machine along with her puke covered sheets and clothing.
Her bed has fresh new sheets, but still she chooses the floor. My body acts as a mattress. Thirty pounds lies on top of my full bladder, but my bladder will have to wait. This is the most comfort my daughter has had all evening and I won’t risk disturbing it.
Our child can’t catch a break. It has been sickness after sickness ever since the cold weather hit.
My helplessness takes a brief reprieve until she wakes crying again. I try to prepare myself for the next round of coughing and tears, but I am too exhausted to think.
The night has not been our friend. The worst of it always comes in the evening. Let’s hope the morning is kinder.