That moment when your beautiful blonde child obediently opens her little mouth and waits for the spoonful of cough medicine. It is one of the worst moments of parenting.
Why, you ask?
They trust that the Mama knows what she's doing. That Mama is doing the right thing. They trust that these chemicals Mama is putting into the child are the ones that will make her feel better. To heal. To soothe. They don't even get to hold the spoon themselves. They just open up like little birdies.
It shakes me to my core. What if I'm wrong? What if I'm WRONG?? How could I stand it? I get flashes of the evil and unreal possibilities -- of families gone horribly wrong. Of mothers gone around the bend.
I know that I am going to take every care; to read each label. To only give as directed. To be appropriate. To be safe and healing and soothing and nurturing. But why oh WHY do they have to be so trusting?
And why does this cause my soul to shiver the way it does? The little fevered forehead, the damp hair, the watery eyes. "Mama. Fix it." It humbles me in a way that is most unpleasant.
I love the feeling of bathing them, getting them into cozy flannel jammies, getting them a night time snack of apples and peanut butter. Reading the book. Tucking the blankies around the thin shoulders. Kissing the forehead, patting the hair. It's all nice and comfortable.
Giving medicine makes me shudder. All because they trust me so much.