07/29/2025 Facing my children's health—with the quiet love of watching over them—

07/29/2025

The morning light streaming into the kitchen has become dazzling.
Another bento box successfully completed today!

The children wake up with slightly sleepy faces.
The quiet morning time is over.

Usually, I'm rushed with preparations, but since I moved just a little bit faster today, I have a tiny bit of breathing room.

Red octopus-shaped sausages, broccoli, meatballs, and two rice balls.
I add some jelly and wrap it in a lunch cloth featuring my eldest daughter's favorite character.

A quiet time facing anxiety

After seeing the kids off to school, I headed to the hospital.
I went to hear the results of the blood test from the other day.

There don't seem to be any blood clots, but I will continue the medication as is.
The faint hope that I might be able to stop taking it was crushed, and as I listened to the explanation, I felt somewhat adrift.

Perhaps an unchanging daily life is the most reassuring result.

I was full of confusion and anxiety after the diagnosis, but now I am quietly accepting the importance of“continuing.”

Moments when a mother's heart becomes sensitive

I feel like when I'm anxious, my children's health also tends to falter.
Is it because I'm worrying more than usual?

My eldest daughter has a slight cough, and my youngest has a runny nose and even a nosebleed. Perhaps the cold air from the air conditioner or the fatigue specific to summer is building up.

The piano recital is this weekend.
I hope they can perform what they've worked so hard to practice comfortably.

I don't want to push them too hard, but I want to take good care of them.

The form of love called “protecting”

Let's get into bed a little earlier tonight.
I'll also adjust where we sleep so the air conditioner's breeze doesn't hit us directly.

I'll have them soothe their throats with warm honey water.

“I'll make sure they sleep well,” “I'll give them honey water.”
Even though I feel like I'm taking measures, there are moments when I doubt my own judgment, wondering, “Is this really okay?”

Isn't being a parent just repeating these small uncertainties every day?

Something I felt while making the bento this morning.
That perhaps this accumulation of one thing after another is what becomes the children's sense of “I'm okay.”

Continuing to take medicine and paying attention to the children's small changes are both expressions of love.
I will carefully continue doing what I can right now.

So that on the day of the recital, the two of them can face the piano with smiles. And so that I, too, can watch over that moment with a calm heart.

The sense of security created by small preparations

Health management might just be “preparation.”

Resting early, eating nutritious food, and setting up the environment.

Everything is a small preparation for “that moment.”

Receiving the baton from yesterday's self and passing it to tomorrow's self. I hope to weave days where the whole family can spend time healthily in that continuity.

When you are concerned about the health of someone you care about, what kind of things do you do?

Surely, that kindness is supporting someone's tomorrow. Perhaps it's okay to acknowledge that accumulation of daily efforts a little more yourself, too.

＼ If you'd like, please take a look at these too ／
▶︎ 6 memorable episodes from the life of a mom who wakes up at 4 AM.

▶︎ Kindness on the dining table, especially on hot days.
　Would you like to peek at our family's summer fatigue countermeasures?

▶︎ Swaying between ideals and reality,
　getting closer to a morning that is uniquely mine.

Please start with whatever catches your interest♪

Thank you so much
for reading until the end!

I would be happy if today's realization made your feelings even a little more comfortable.

Without pushing yourself, little by little.
Let's find small happiness again tomorrow.
See you later!