Two weeks in quarantine.
First diarrhoea and vomiting and then chicken pox.
I send frustrated messages out to friends and family
Bemoaning the situation.
That I am the only reliable parent.
I am the only parent.
Cancelling commitments and ending screen time restrictions.
At my lowest
I breastfeed while sat in a puddle of sick and as she is heaving she asks for more and more.
Judah starts to feel better and resumes bouncing off the walls.
But we are trapped.
When we are mothers we deny and deny
We wail at the injustice
Sometimes we simply walk away
"I can't do this anymore"
Yet come back to offer the breast again, with a sigh.
This is resignation
This is love
And I am reminded
That most of motherhood
Is a spiritual practise.