The Birth of the Girl
My mother-in-law came into town as the due date grew near. She stayed home with the two boys (H: not quite two years old, and K: not quite four years old) while we rushed off to the hospital. (At least two of my wife’s siblings were born on the side of the road while driving to the hospital. My wife is not interested in carrying on that tradition, so she tends to be quick to head to the hospital.)
We are in the midst of labor when I get a text from the MiL: “H has a 103 degree fever and I don’t know what to do.” I can’t deal with this right now, obviously. I text the one friend. You know the one. The one who will drop everything for you. “H has a bad fever and needs your help. Do whatever. Keep me informed. Don’t ask me any questions.” I’m texting all of this with one hand while my wife is clamping down on the other through the contractions. I imagine the nurses think I’m a jerk. I can’t explain the situation to them because I don’t want to stress out my wife who is already…stressed.
I‘ve got the home cameras running on my phone as I see our friend arrive. She takes H’s temperature. Then I see her scramble around for his jacket, get him all dressed up, buckle him into her car and drive off. Text from her: “Temperature is too high. Going to urgent care.”
A half hour later she follows up with another text. “First urgent care relocated. Found another. H has the flu and a double ear infection. Getting prescription and going back home.” Medicated, in bed and asleep, the friend texts some final details and leaves the mother-in-law in a better position.
Fast forward several hours. The other boy at home is sick too. MiL tripped on the stairs and hit her head. Also, she thinks she has the flu too. J has been born, safe and sound though. We are in our hospital room. Everything is good. Dinner is on its way. The newborn baby is sleeping (as they so often do). I explain: “I’ve got to bail on you. Both boys are sick. Your mom is also sick. I need to go help. I’ll come back in the morning.” An army of nurses ready to help her, my wife was in good hands.
The two boys are very different from each other when they’re sick. K just wants to be left alone with his blanket and his stuffed animal. Medicate him as prescribed and keep him hydrated. Super easy. In contrast, H just wants to be held. And never set down. I could be working a jackhammer; he doesn’t care as long as he can have his head down on my shoulder and I never, ever set him down. Unfortunately, most of the work I need to do around the house is not easily accomplished while lugging around a very hefty (almost) two year old.
A friend from church texts: “How are things? Can I help?” Glad you asked. Yes you can! If you’re not afraid of the flu, come hold my sick two year old so I can get the house cleaned up. He comes over. I tell H than I’ve got to set him down for a bit and get some work done. H doesn’t want to be held by anyone else though. But he is also too sick and tired to fight off the advances of the friend there to help. The best H can muster is to turn towards the counters and put himself into a corner (see the headline photo). “Just pick him up. He is too tired to cry. He will be happy once he is being held.”
And he was.