Last week during lunch, Mira began to cry. Andrew and I rushed to her side to discover her woes. All she could sob out was, “I scared… of monstuhs!”
I pulled her into my lap and laid her head on my chest. I felt immediately that she was just a bit too warm. Maybe not feverish, but definitely warmer than normal. Sure enough, the thermometer proved me right and off to bed she went with a small virus.
At some point, it occurred to me to marvel: I knew the way Mira’s skin should feel.
When newborn babies are placed into their mother’s arms, a marathon year of touching, holding, feeling, eating, snuggling, and attaching begins. I’ve learned to intuitively know my children by the way they feel in my arms. I know that Adam runs warm, Ellen runs cool, and the others fall somewhere in between.
I missed that first year with Mira. We’ve spent hours making up for it, snuggling and cuddling as long as she wanted. I’ve had to learn her skin, her smell, her moods, the way she acts when she’s sick. And it takes time. Those first twelve months of snuggling are so crucial.
So when I tell you that she crawled in my lap and I knew immediately she was sick, it was a victory. Obviously, I’m not glad she was sick. But I was glad I KNEW it. I knew it deep down in my Mommy Bone, the one that knows my children better than anyone else.
Later that night, Andrew snuck upstairs to give a restless, feverish Mira some medicine. He came back down with an awestruck look on his face. “I just gave her medicine. At night. And she didn’t fight me.”
Shortly after we came home, Mira had to have her tonsils removed. I was very, very sick and Andrew had to care for her by himself. Every night, he would creep upstairs to give her medicine and every night she would fight with all her might NOT to take her medicine. She would take it fine for me but if Andrew tried it, somehow, in her pain and sleepiness, she couldn’t make herself trust the Tall Guy with the Tylenol.
So the other night, when he snuck into her room and picked her up, she stiffened at first but then she opened her eyes, stared at him intently, and opened her mouth. She trusted him.
I think a parent’s attachment with a child, adopted or biological, is something that we’re always working on. It ebbs and flows some days. But, OH WHAT A GIFT, to have confirmed that the daughter of my heart has also become the daughter of my skin. To see her trust her daddy in the daytime, in the nighttime, in all of the times.
Mira feels better today and her smile has returned. And that smile of hers? It’ll cure what ails you…
That rocks! That’s for sharing the joys.
*tears* Such a precious blessing! Thank you for sharing!
I love this. So beautifully written.
Oh, my heart squeezes and my eyes water and I want to hug that cutie and her Mama and Daddy!
Love it. Way to make me tear up as I sit here holding my sick babe.
I feel like I’m still discovering my children all the time. They’re three and one, and sometimes they are still a part of my body and other times they’re like strangers. I’m so glad to know that other parents feel the same!
What a blessing it is to know our children! I love that you have found that with Mira. You’re an incredible mom and your fierce love for all of your children shows through the words that you share.
So…so sweet; and I DO understand why this was so huge, such victory.
My baby is 15 now; we’re living out of the country temporarily, and I don’t have everything I’ve got at home…like a thermometer. But he felt bad recently, and I put my hands on his body, and I knew he had a fever. It didn’t hit me at first that I knew that, but when I realized I had felt the subtle change in his body temperature, it occurred to me on some level my babies will always need their mama. Even when they grow taller than me.
I just bawled through this whole post! How beautifully you have written about a mother’s love and bond with her children. So thankful Mira is better and that through it all God showed you how far all of you have come.
PRAISES!
Sweet and true. I just had that experience with Matthew a couple of days ago. I remember my mother being able to tell from across the room that I had a temperature when I was a little girl. “I can tell by your eyes,” she’d say. I love maternal superpowers. And yes, Mira’s smile made this gray, gloomy morning brighter for me, for sure.
This is so touching & thought provoking. I am the same with my four. And they each have their own temps don’t they? I am new to reading your blog. I find a lot of “mama” encouragement here. You’re doing a great job.
- from a former Alabama girl:)
Love this! What beautiful moments to treasure!!! ((hugs))jen
So rad!
Love. So glad she’s feeling better and so glad she, without a doubt, trusts the tall guy with Tylenol.
What an incredible feeling all around. 
love this! you are so right! knowing how your child’s “normal” skin temp is such a unique thing. what a beautiful description! thank you so much for sharing!