When children get sick, life usually goes into survival mode. This time, though, I tried not to let it come to a standstill.
For two weeks, I haven’t had a single peaceful night’s sleep. I’m not talking about the usual wake-ups for breastfeeding. I mean alternating paracetamol and ibuprofen, calculating doses for three different body weights, countless inhalations, clearing blocked noses, taking temperatures, and giving medicine in a way that would keep the child from throwing it back up.
I wasn’t going to write about this. But what else could I write about, when this is what I’ve been living through for the past two weeks? Even though my stories showed snippets of Maputo and Pemba. Because life outside our home continued as planned. Which made the children’s illnesses and helplessness all the more exhausting.
And our attempts to get through it all.
Tony came back from Pemba with such severe back pain that he had to go to the hospital and was given an injection. Yesterday, he took our two younger boys down for a nap. Meanwhile, I lay down next to Joseph, who was reading a book, and I completely passed out for two hours. When we all woke up, Tony had chills.
Malaria.
David had a low-grade fever.
We wait.
Everything ends eventually.
That sentence has carried me through more than one accumulation of our Mozambican ailments.
When the children are sick, my thoughts immediately run towards tragedy. What if the fever medicine doesn’t work? What if it’s the most severe form of malaria? What if the infection reaches the lungs? What if…?
Stop.
This is the moment — or perhaps it should come a little sooner — to replace those thoughts with prayer.
“Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:6-7 NLT
This is the moment when the promise of peace slams the door on your “what if.”
Do what needs to be done.
Everything ends eventually.
The fever will pass. The cough will eventually stop waking everyone at night. Even malaria — as serious as it sounds right now — will one day be nothing more than a memory.
This time, I tried not to let life come to a standstill.
The children got plenty of rest, but whenever they had the strength, they looked at paintings and sculptures in the art museum in Maputo, played at the playground, and we went for walks in the parks. We visited displaced families in Pemba, had lunch at Grandma’s, and once they dipped their feet in the ocean.
I kept writing according to plan. Tony sorted out David’s documents and organized help for displaced families.
And I was kind to myself.
I rarely cooked. I didn’t polish my texts to perfection. Every now and then, I let the children skip a bath. Instead of our usual evening reading, I played them an audiobook for a little longer.
When children are sick, you just have to get through it.
You can be gentler with yourself, and with everyone in the house.
You can turn to Him.
And you? What helps you get through those days when your children are sick?
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