It's been a long time since I've been as sick as I was last night.
I went to bed with a splitting headache, and it only got worse as the night progressed.
By 3:00 am I was quite certain I didn't want to be alive.
I can't remember ever having a worse migraine and on top of it all, I was so nauseated I couldn't move without throwing up.
As I laid on the bathroom floor (and by the way I've never been more grateful for freshly laundered rugs in the bathroom) waiting for my stomach to stop heaving, I cried and thought about how much I missed my mom.
I knew that Jason would have done anything that he could have for me, but I just missed having my mom rubbing my back and smoothing back my hair.
I slept until this afternoon, and was so grateful that Jason was home from his week of traveling because I knew that Emily was in the best hands.
Later in the day Emily and I were snuggled on the couch taking another nap and I looked at the blankets we were cuddling with.
They are at least 30 years old, and were made with love by my grandma.
The yellow one is mine, and the blue one was my grandpa's.
They are mostly worn and have very little batting between the layers of fabric, but they comfort me when I'm sad - or when I'm sick.
While Emily slept cuddled in my arms and her great-grandma's blanket, I watched the rain falling outside my window, and although my head still hurt I was filled with peace.
I've had a good life - I've been surrounded by people who love me, and as silly as it might seem, I'm grateful for threadbare blankets that still serve as a reminder of that love.
And for the record, my throat is still sore from the ordeal it went through last night.
I'm off to wrap up in my yellow blanket and snuggle with Jason.