Of course it’s unbearable when your child is ill. To have them laying peacefully beside you in bed without enthusiastically kicking your groin, fisting you in the face with spit-covered palms, or crying out for ‘Dada’ when you’re trying your best to enjoy some mummy-son time, is so utterly out-of-character that you find yourself continually checking to that they’re still breathing. You get so used to them screeching, pulling freshly laundered clothes out of your drawers, and throwing half-gobbled toast at your face, that when they go silent you know they’re either plotting something dangerous, or feeling peaky.
We’ve been so lucky with Dexter. Since being hospitalised with Strep B (twice!) he’s had no more than a common cold. He’s such a smiley and happy baby that he rarely even cries. Having said that, he’s not really a loving baby. He’s never been one for cuddles, or kisses. This doesn’t bother me. Of course I’d love it if he’d seek me out in crowded room, scurry on over, and bury his face in my neck - but it’s just not the way he is. I’m just dependable mummy who provides warm porridge, makes wet bums dry, and has long hair to chew. Dex is much more of a Daddys Boy.
When he was struck down by the novovirus last week, it came as a complete surprise and scared us senseless. He seemed permanently tired and literally laid in the same position for hours. He still wouldn’t cry, he’d just wear a pained expression, suck his tiny fingers and lay there. His body became pliable. I could scoop him up and hold him without him wriggling free. He began to really focus on my face and what I was saying; we bonded.
During this time, he’s learnt some new things.
When you say “Give mummy kisses”, he’ll push his open mouth in the direction of yours. These are his very first kisses, and they’re beautiful.
He’s also learnt to actually like having his hair stroked. It’s lovely being able to soothe him to sleep and have him enjoy using your arm as a pillow.
He’d watch you point and identify your nose, eyes, ears, mouth… and seem to take it in just that little bit more than before.
He’d call for ‘Mama’ in protest when Craig tried to drip feed Diaorlyte.
He’d watch sleep next to me in our bed (without trying to pull himself to standing using the headboard and tread on my face).
We bonded.
Today he’s feeling lots better. He’s eating a little more, he’s managed at least 400 mls of fluid, his poo is no longer yellow. He’s also gone back to ignoring everything I say or do.
I’m not suggesting I’d rather he was permanently poorly. I’m hugely relieved he’s better! But it seems thoughts of those first kisses will have to sustain me for a while - The wire from Apple TV is far more fascinating than mummy, and the word ‘kisses’ now prompts this…
I really do love you Dexter xx
