On Monday at around 2 p.m. I started heaving. At first, I assumed it was just another bout of pregnancy-induced sickness since I’m still feeling queasy and sporadically throwing up. But when I started shivering with the chills and when I couldn’t stay out of the bathroom for longer than 15 minutes with both diarrhea and vomiting spells, I knew I was up against the dreaded stomach bug.
This is never a fun experience, but add the fact that you’re 17 weeks pregnant and responsible for caring for two little ones to the pukey mix and it becomes a cruel form of slow, stomach-emptying, bone-aching torture. No sick days for Mom.
But this time I wasn’t left alone to fend for myself and my two children in between hurling. An angel swooped in and held my hair back as I leaned over the toilet bowl. She placed a damp washcloth on my feverish forehead. She loved on my kids and kept them busy, so I could rest. She even did several loads of laundry and put away our Halloween decorations. Oh, and she cleaned the yucky toilet…twice. Now there’s a saint for you.
Just before bed, she came into my room and ran her fingers through my hair like she did when I was a little girl. This angel may not have iridescent wings sprouting from her back. She wasn’t dressed in ethereal white. I think she was cloaked in a Cubs t-shirt, but she wan angel and a guardian watching over me nonetheless. This time my angel was my own mom who just happened to have planned on spending time with her girls for a few days and when I succumbed to sickness, she was by my side, taking care of her daughter and her granddaughters and spoiling all of us with TLC only an angelic mom can give.
Mom, thank you for taking care of me and for always watching over me. You’re my angel standing by, and I love you.