If you have been on Facebook lately, you already know how our last few days have been. Teghan has been miserable. Dave has been amazing. And me? I have been in hiding, waiting for the moment I catch the stomach virus that will make me confront my greatest fear in the world- throwing up.
It’s not a joke. It is the one thing I cannot get past in spite of all logic. It is a completely irrational fear that I have always had. I am 36 years old, and I have experienced the act of vomiting only once as an adult. Which, as you can imagine, makes the whole idea freak me out even more.
What this also means is that I am not winning any awards as parent of the year right now. Dave certainly deserves one; but I, on the other hand, have become like a second patient for him. My only solace is that Teghan is really easy to supervise at the moment. She hasn’t left the couch or bed except to use the bathroom, and sometimes not even then. She has been sleeping most hours of the day. The only real work comes when she gets sick- and let’s face it, I was never going to be the one cleaning up those messes (panic attack or not).
Still, I am amazed at how he puts himself so close to the virus enemy. That is courage I just don’t possess. Because, well, I am kind of out of my mind at the moment. Which is too bad, because I really want to lie down next to her and comfort her. She seems so sad. She got lots of snuggles on Thursday, before I knew what was happening- then she puked and I was out of there.
So this is just a thank you to Dave, who is always a fantastic husband and father. Who has happily taken on the role of both nurse and psychiatrist these last few days. He has kept her clean and hydrated. He has bleached down the house. He has made homemade bread and brought me sandwiches- and has allowed me to ask him if he washed his hands every five minutes.
Dave, you are pretty amazing. Thank you.