Comfort

There is so much catching up to do here on my blog. I will eventually come around to posting what I want or need for the sake of record keeping, but not today. Instead, we are too busy dealing with the flu.

I got hit really hard on Tuesday. What a doozie! I could barely lift my head. The headache, fever and body aches were of epic proportions, unlike I have ever felt in my life. I honestly don't think I have ever had a flu like this before. It was very difficult to muster up the strength to get up and provide for myself, much less for anyone, but it had to be done. I have a beautiful little boy whose life depends on me. My mother offered to come over and help, but for once in my life, I refused. I didn't want her or anyone to catch this beast of a flu. In her already delicate condition, it would have surely sent her immediately to the hospital. With my husband unable to stay home from work, or even get out early for that matter, we were pretty much on our own. Previously when I got ill, it was timed so perfectly that it almost always happened over the weekend, and my darling husband would be there to help. Not this time, no. I just had to get sick during the week when I was on my own.

We ordered takeout and prayed a lot. Prayer was definitely comforting, and so were the meals we ordered. There is nothing better than your favorite comfort foods when you are sick, Liam would also agree, but his idea of comfort was something entirely different. He felt nostalgic for something we had both relinquished some time ago, like back in the summer.

There was a momentous occasion in July that I didn't blog about, partly because I did not want to draw too much attention to it. It was significant because precisely on July 4th, both Liam and I declared our independence. It just happened, cold turkey. It was entirely his decision. For the record, I breastfed Liam for three and a half years. There, I said it. As alarming as it may sound to the general population, I just didn't have the heart to wean him sooner. He just didn't feel ready. Before when he got sick, breastmilk was his one and only saving grace, the only source of nutrition that he would be able to hold in his stomach. Whenever I got sick, I ate more so that I could breastfeed him more. I know it seems bizarre or somewhat backward, but in my heart I truly believed that my body miraculously produced the antibodies that my son needed so that he wouldn't get the same illness. I wholeheartedly believed it because it would always work. My son would either not get sick or he would get sick but for like a day or so.

Fast foward now to the present. I got the flu and Liam soon followed. He got it just as bad as me. Poor little guy. As crazy as this sounds, I too missed breastfeeding. It's that innate desire in me to bring him immediate comfort that way. He has sought comfort though in staying really close, as in, -nudging his flushed face and grabbing me with his hot, feverish little hands- close. Well, if that closeness gives him comfort when he is ill, then I will let him. He is still a babe afterall, so this kind of nursing is fine with me and I am not ashamed to admit it.