I am awake

I am awake. Watching her chest go up and down. Listening to each inhale and waiting for the exhale. I see the tremble of her tiny hand. I feel the heat from her skin. The red of her cheeks makes her look almost pretend. Her dry and cracked lips rest in a grimace. She moans every now and again. A sound that torments my soul but let's me know she is alive. Her hair is matted to her forehead. Each move she makes brings my heart to a race. Was that a seizure or just movement? Is her brain glitching as she is trying to dream, does the scene freeze? I am awake. Afraid to close my eyes. Afraid to even blink. Too many have died not so peacefully in their sleep. Mothers walk in to find their children blue. I would rather sit up an watch, keep count of her breaths. Her arm is shaking and soon the rest of her will be too. Violently ripped from her restless sleep. By this monster we call Epilepsy. No body told me I would one day count seconds like dreams. 1 Mississippi, her body begins to move. 2 Mississippi, is she in there? 3 Mississippi, how much more can her body even take? The seconds pass and I hold vigil, a helpless mother held captive by this evil ghost. 29 Mississippi, Oh God she is turning blue. 30 Mississippi, her eyes open but she can't see me. 31 Mississippi, whoosh goes her breath hot as can be right into my face. I am awake. She is falling back to sleep. Tomorrow she will have no memory of these. Tomorrow she wont remember what she learned today. Tomorrow she wont understand why her brain just wants to sleep. Why her eyes are too heavy to stay open. I don't understand why this happens at all. This threat to my child and there is nothing I can do. Her fever rages on. A quirk in her genes. The invisible grip of pain all so evident on her face. No help for her. No cure in sight. All I can do is pray and watch over her each night.

Kristina