Loved

Early this morning, I held my little girl in my arms as she steadfastly refused to eat, then, an hour later, I held her as her little body convulsed she threw up the prior feeding - all over me, all over her, all over my bed.

For the next five minutes, I sat, held her close, and cried, great tears falling down my cheeks. Scared that something was very wrong, I gathered her up and took her upstairs, where my parents were beginning to get ready for the day.

My mom questioned my appearance, knowing that, sleep-deprived, I try and stretch the night out as long as possible. I walked into the hallway, tears still caressing my cheeks, and said, "She's sick."

Mom gently took Baby G and lovingly changed her out of her soiled pajamas, so that I could clean up. I placed a call to the pediatrician. Then I sat in the kitchen and just held her, my heart aching, as she clearly displayed signs of not feeling well.

For the first time, I was powerless to help her. For the first time, I began to understand the burden of love and pain that my parents have borne for me. As I sat gently rocking my infant daughter, I thought of how helpless and scared my parents must have felt when I was rushed to the hospital at age 8 with a serious viral infection; the dread that must have settled over them when I suffered a life-threatening surgical complication at age 16; the terror that must have sat like lead in their hearts when they were escorted out of my hospital room as I went into post-surgical respiratory arrest at age 18; the fear that seeped into my mother's voice as I told her of my upcoming appendectomy 18 months ago; and hundreds of other times when, through choice or circumstance, I had caused my parents pain.

I have never been more grateful to be in my parents' care than I was today. I have never been more appreciative of their love for me, as I conferred with them over my baby's obvious discomfort. I have never appreciated my mother more than when she gently lifted Baby G from my arms to care for her, so I could care for myself.

I can't imagine what I would have done, had she grown ill while I was in my own home. Surely, the tears would have flowed much longer, the feeling of utter helplessness settled much deeper, had I not been able to turn to my parents to share my burden.

As I cared for Baby G the rest of the day, patting her to sleep slung over my shoulder (the only positon which seemed to provide her with some relief), I realized, for the first time, the burden of love and pain my parents bore for me had now settled on my shoulders. I'll never truly know how much my parents love me, but in the quiet stillness this morning, I began to glimpse the enormity of it.

Baby G now sits, propped on my lap, fast asleep - her ailments momentarily pushed aside by fatigue. I realize, as I watch her sleep in perfect contentment, I am truly blessed to have someone love me so much, but even more blessed to experience that great love for someone else.

Sleep well, Baby G.