I had spent two sleepless days caring for our sick daughter when my husband announced fifteen friends were coming over for football. I begged him to take the party elsewhere, but he refused. By the time his guests arrived, I’d learned something that changed how I planned to handle the night.
At 8:14 that night, my husband screamed my name so loudly that 15 men stopped watching football.
“PAIGE!”
I was halfway to the stairs when the room went silent. Glen stood beside the coffee table holding papers he’d pulled from the snack bag I had just handed him. His face had gone red.
One of his friends leaned forward. “What is that?”
Glen looked at me.
***
Two days earlier, I wouldn’t have believed I had enough energy left to do anything that dramatic.
Our six-year-old daughter, Emily, had been sick for several days. Her fever kept climbing, dropping, then climbing again.
We had already taken her to the doctor, and the instructions were simple: keep her comfortable, keep fluids in her, let her rest, and watch her closely.
Simple sounded easy until it was three in the morning and Emily was crying because her pajamas were damp again.
For almost two days, I barely slept. I changed her clothes, checked her temperature, brought water, gave her medicine on schedule, and sat beside her whenever she couldn’t settle.
I stood in the kitchen holding an empty coffee mug for nearly a minute before realizing I hadn’t made coffee.
“Mom?”
Emily’s voice came from down the hall, and I put the mug down immediately.
She was curled beneath her blanket when I reached her room.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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