throwing up. We're not sure what she has, but at dinner, she wouldn't
eat anything, wouldn't eat anything, wouldn't eat anything, and then
just as we were about to give up and release her from the dinner
table, she threw up - three times in succession. And then a fourth
time after Amy had put her in bed.
One of my fondest memories of my mom was also one of the worst days of
my life. We were in Taiwan, and as was the norm somebody took us out
for a fabulous dinner and I ate my fill. But something didn't agree
with me, and in the middle of the night, I let it all go - splashing
onto my uncle's linoleum floor. As I whimpered in the corner, my mom
cleaned up the mess and then held me. Without saying a word, she
communicated thousands of words' worth of love.
And so it is with Amy. Tonight, she's changed Jada's clothes and wash
her stuffed dolly - twice. She's changed the sheets and given Jada a
bath, mopped the floor and scrubbed down the dinner table. And all
the while, her highest thought - no, her only thought - was that her
heart was breaking because one of her chicks was not feeling well. I
tapped Amy on the chest and said, "That's a mother's heart in there.
Jada didn't come out of you, but you are her mother." Indeed she is.
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