I Am Tiramisu

How long can a mother hold her breath? Longer than imaginable.
Wednesday night Ava started showing signs of diarrhea. My keep-calm-be-on-alert mode automatically switches on. By 1am her fever suddenly went up to 39.8 C. These days one can never be sure what has stricken a 2-year-old. With a fever as high as that, it could be anything. And her tummy didnt sound right (you know, sounding like a hollow drum when you beat on it). By morning she was clearly dehydrated inspite of the hydrating powder I had been giving her. Somehow I knew she was going to be alright. And somehow I knew what I was supposed to do.
Apparently, not the people around me.
The doctor has seen her. Medications are underway. I knew the instructions by heart. After the viral infection in her tummy she gets a fast progressing asthma attack.
I just wanted to stop hearing those sympathetic worries all around me. You are worried, thank you. But those panicky advises and unsolicited suggestions no thank you. I dont want anyone to panic for me.
Because that's not going to help ME a bit.
I would love to sit and ride on the conversation of how pitiful my daughter looks and how weak she is, but I can't. I need to keep myself calm. Alert, vigilant and sane. She shouldnt have eaten this, shouldnt have eaten that. Duh. Dont I know that already.
Being totally calm and "professional" about the whole thing while at the same time gentle, caring and loving to a sick child is a feat I chose to take.
And I offer no apologies of my half cold, totally loving hospital-like attitude.
In times like this, presence of mind is most helpful.
I have no intentions of putting more fuel into other peoples' already useless rantings which I find such a nuisance.
Offer me your help, that I would appreciate.
Do not, in any way, criticize a mother who is holding her breath in taking care of her sick baby.
I do not choose to be some who chose to play the helpless parent in distress.
Who is in distress?
It is your child. Not you.
I find it useless for you to even talk to me about parenting when you do not know the dosage of the paracetamol for your own kid.
Go in peace. Leave me in peace. May you learn more. Pray.
I cannot play the crying mother of a sick child.
I would rather check my medicine schedule list, check on the medicine supply, wake up every 4 hours to check the temperature, give the dreaded medicines religiously, give Ava the warmest of warmest hugs when she coughs painfully, soothe her cheeks, craddle her in the wee hours of dawn for 4 straight days, patiently while firmly forcing her to eat some nutrition, at the same picking up Alyssa from school, checking her homework, help her build her Dora/Diego/Littlest Pet/Puppy in My Pocket cities in between.
If my parenting does not suit you, be it. You will not hear an apology from me.

And when you do call me at 3am because your child is with high fever, you can be assured I would be on your side even before you can say my name.

It is indeed a parent's privilege to go crazy and panicky but there is no need to insult me. I do get crazy and panicky sometimes, who wouldnt be. And if I chose to get over craziness and panic in 5 minutes to switch on to emergency mode, I believe I would be of greater help to my child and to the medical experts around me. Practical. And it does not mean it makes you less loving.

Go in peace. Leave in peace. Live in peace. Pray.