Meh.

Avi's future wife, Brynja.



My best friend's baby girl is pretty sick. She's perking up, but it's taken a pretty serious hospitalization to get there. It's been hell for both of them, not to mention her husband (who also has the rotavirus) and son (who just finished having it).

I visited this amazing mama and daughter duo today in the hospital, in Syracuse. It's gut-wrenching, visiting a pediatric ward. All the scared moms and sick babies. All the busy nurses, trying to put happy faces on. All the pacing dads, and business-as-usual (i.e. bitchy) secretaries.

It's gut-wrenching, because I immediately put Avi into one of the beds. I put tubes in his arms, and angry screams in his lungs. I put the panicky clinginess into his face and limbs, and into my own heart. It's horrible, because I feel so unfairly blessed. So lucky, to have had almost no issues with his health in his short 13 months. I feel so grateful, and so guilty at the same time.

But it all vanishes when you see your friend in that situation. And her perfect little girl, sleeping easily (thank god!) and comfortably. And I came for the good stuff- she's turned the corner! She's drinking well, and even ate tonight! She's smiling, and playful, and still sick- but you can kind of ignore it, with such a gorgeous smile. You even welcome the tears, when the nurse comes- because they're real tears! WET tears, running down her face! I came for the moist, alive Brynja. A day earlier, I wasn't there. It was my friend who had to suffer through the dry eyes, mouth, and diapers. The still, lethargic baby who wouldn't lift her head. The sleepless nights, with endless diaper and clothing changes. Nobody to take a shift, or hold her baby (or her hand) through such an extremely trying time.

No mama should have to be grateful for a few hours reprieve. But like many mamas, my friend is surviving this struggle. She still looks gorgeous (bitch), despite the hospital shower, and she still has the energy to wrestle and play with her now energetic little girl.

Being a mom is very hard. Being a mom is harder for my friend than it should be, because her children are consumed by cooties. But nobody would know this, by looking at her. And her kids are ridiculously happy, despite their colds and ear infections and nightmarish stomach viruses. But if I were her, I wouldn't look so noble (or hot). I don't know if I'd be as good at this mom thing, if I had to struggle like this.

So far, I haven't had to find out. I really hope I never do.