Hush-a-bye don’t you cry,
Go to sleep-y, little baby.
When you wake you shall have
All the pretty little horses.
Dapples and grays, pintos and bays
All the pretty little horses…
She lays in my arms, sighing in the delirium of fever. Her little eyes flutter open once in awhile but she’s so far away. I rock her as the night slowly moves by. I wonder where she goes, what she sees so far from me. I pray and ask God to be with her, to bring her back to me. I sing to her this lullaby from long ago. My arms are cramped but I can’t let go of her. Every now and again, like I’m in a trance, I leave this place, traveling with her to places unknown, in our heads.
I hear him snoring away in the other room. I want to rage and scream at him for being such a jackass. What stops me is the fact that I have to pray for this child, and I’m afraid God won’t listen to me if my heart is full of blackness and hate. All I want is for my baby to be well, to be my monkey again.
The tears catch in my throat when she whimpers. She’s sweating out the fever and her pajamas are soaked. In the bathroom, she can’t stand up and she cries when I undress her because she’s so cold. Her little body is so thin and she trembles from fever. Tenderly I wash her and tell her it’s ok. In warm pajamas and wrapped up in her blanket again, she begins to settle down. She finally drinks a bit of water for me but not enough.
Way down yonder, in the meadow,
Poor little baby cryin, mama;
Birds and the butterflies flutter round his eyes,
Poor little baby cryin mama.
In our lonely vigil in the kitchen, she opens her eyes and says “Mom…” My tears fall. It feels like my heart has been slashed by a thousand paper cuts. They come into this world crying for their mother…maybe they leave the same way…
Morning comes and he gets up for work and is surprised to find us still in the kitchen. He tells me not to worry about his breakfast; he’ll get some on the way to work. I don’t say anything, even when he says he’ll take us to the doctor today. Without Linus to wake her, Boo sleeps in. When she does wake up, she cries when she doesn’t find her sister. I change Linus one more time and I settle on the couch with her. Boo goes around the house and brings back the toys she thinks will make Linus all better. I watch as she drags in Popo and settles herself beside me, with him between us. She places her little hand on her sister’s hand and pats it. In the midst of this hell, I have been blessed with such miracles, such comfort and my heart feels lighter for a moment.
Hush-a-bye don’t you cry,
Go to sleep-y, little baby.
When you wake you shall have
All the pretty little horses.
Dapples and grays, pintos and bays
All the pretty little horses…
Boo tries to sing with me. They’ve heard this lullaby so many times. They sing it to their dollies and Popo.
Way down yonder, in the meadow,
Poor little baby cryin, mama;
Birds and the butterflies flutter round his eyes,
Poor little baby cryin mama.
Before I know it, I have two babies sleeping and the day begins to drift away…
Next -> The Grace of God
Tags: delirium of fever, jackass, midst of this hell, thousand paper cuts