Fighting with Eyes Closed Shut

Over Thanksgiving break, Dallin B caught the tummy bug. He sat up calmly in the middle of the night in the room we were all sharing and said, "Mom, I don't feel good." So him and I quickly and quietly made our way to the bathroom where he emptied his insides into the toilet with perfect aim. He wanted to cuddle up with his mama and, besides, he wasn't sure if he was feeling better or not. I placed a plastic bowl on the nightstand and then we closed our eyes. Pretty soon, Dallin was whispering, "Mom, I need to throw-up." I reached over, grabbed the bowl, he puked, I set it down. Dallin suggested a plan, "Hey mom, if I think I'm going to throw-up, I'll tap your shoulder like this {he modeled the signal} and then you can grab the bowl." And that's how we spent the rest of the night- him tapping my shoulder, me grabbing the bowl, him throwing up, me setting it back down. Without uttering a single word. Round after round after round.

Porter was a couple days behind his brother. The night I was on duty, he woke up screaming before his eyes even opened. You know what, screaming is generous- shrilling more explains it. He favors the super soprano range. So he's shrilling like a bear was attacking him, which jolted me into an upright position with my eyes wide open before I even had time to guess what was going on. When I breached reality, I grabbed him the bowl, trying to rub his back as he's fighting his demons from the outside in. It was impossible to sync up with his erratic jerking movements so one out-stretched hand to the back was the only kind of comfort I had to offer. Finally the gagging cut off his vocal chords, bringing the brief moment of silence where I questioned if he was still alive..... before the throw-up came, landing mostly inside the bowl, but always splattering out since his head wasn't capable of finding one stable position. And then it was over. The screaming had ceased, the convulsions halted, and his tummy was temporarily settled. He-....WE- had survived a bout. One, single bout. Now.....put that on repeat for the rest of the night.

Last night, I was laying asleep in bed when the screams and shrills commenced. Sadly, they didn't jolt me upright. Instead I closed my eyes tighter hoping things would work themselves out. Because sometimes they do. Sometimes all a child needs is just a bit of time to pull it together. And sometimes all I need is a bit of time- usually accompanied by some screaming- to accept reality. LAst night, that was the case. Like it or not, I had to get up out of bed to address the shrills. I entered the boys' room to find my convulsing, hacking, screaming son, once again fighting his demons from the outside in. "Porter, Porter," I whispered. No response. At least no change of behavior which I would have then interpreted as a response. He was sticking with the convulsing, hacking, screaming. After a few subtle attempts, I finally grab his face and start doing a LOUD, intense whisper. "PORTER, JUST LISTEN TO MY VOICE AND I'LL GET YOU THROUGH THIS. DO YOU HEAR ME??" He showed some sort of acknowledgment so I kept going. "NOW WHAT I NEED YOU TO DO IS SIT UP AND BREATHE. DEEP BREATHS, BABY. TILT YOUR HEAD BACK AND OPEN YOUR MOUTH WIDE. I'M LOADING YOU UP WITH TYLENOL. JUST KEEP LOOKING AT MY EYES." He finally seemed to be breathing in a normal fashion and open to the possibility of being coached through this. I filled his little mouth with Tylenol straight from the bottle as he stared into my eyes. With him cooperating I switched from 9-1-1 operator mode back to just being Mom. I grabbed him a drink of water and then, loathing the 8 am sheet washing session, asked, "Do you need to go potty?" Without fighting, that little sir jumped right out of bed, did his business, and was lights out. Done and done. We had survived a coughing fit.

I fell back into my bed, exhausted from my 10 minute exorcism. Too exhausted to dream. But if I could have picked, I would've been dreaming about a child that silently taps of my shoulder when they're not feeling good.