My boy hasn't been felling well since last week. He stayed at Grandma's since the week before and fell sick when he's there. Grandma brought him to a nearby clinic and nursed him while we at home did the things that we can't do when he's around.

He came back last Saturday with fever, cough and flu. He was so sick and down. He cried and wanted us to carry him all the time. His temperature went up and down. He had no appetite. He only wanted milk. When he took a nap or sleep at night, he choked and coughed so bad that he vomited out whatever was in his stomach. We were helpless. If only I can take his suffering instead :(

He was still the same on Sunday and Monday. Fever went down a little. But his coughing was still bad. I thought, this can't be. He should be feeling better. Maybe the medicine didn't work well with him. So yesterday, I decided to bring him to our usual clinic. Like a desperate mother, I rushed him there before the clinic closed for lunch. Never mind the dishevelled look I had. Never mind the creased t-shirt I had on. I was desperate as a desperate mother can be.

Today, Thank God, he feels so so so much better. I seldom hear him cough. And he plays a lot. I feel that I've passed the challenge, the test. Though I've heard of friends nursing their children to health, it's totally a different experience when they're my own. It's amazing how I can successfully nurse and care for him and at the same time caring for another child AND their father. I feel VICTORY. No job in the world can be compared to the 24-hour job that I'm holding. Cheers to all mothers! ;)