Six Days Home With the Flu
My 16.5 year old son has been home for six days with the flu.
He called me last Wednesday from school not feeling well. It’s not that he often does this, but to be honest, I was skeptical about how sick he really was (eye roll). And I say that because, well… we all know that as the primary parent, having a sick kid at home can be disruptive. And that’s me being nice about it.
He can drive now, so I didn’t have to pick him up — he got himself home. But I work from home, and so having him in the house again gives me a little Covid PTSD. Because sick kids have needs, right? They ask for things (as they should), and I might overdo it a bit making sure he’s hydrated and fed if he’s hungry, all while still trying to work and do my things.
He’s actually very independent these days, so I honestly don’t mind when he asks for something. And when he does, I know he really doesn’t feel well — because he doesn’t really want to ask mom for much, ever.
The first day home started out no big deal. He just seemed under the weather.
Day two a fever developed.
Day three, the fever was spiking. He was miserable.
I have a 13-year-old daughter too, and I’m a single parent. Their dad wasn’t available this week to help, so I was juggling a lot. I didn’t feel resentful at all (this time), but I did recognize that I was tired. And also not able to get much work done these days.
I was running to the drug store for medicines in between clients or dropping my daughter at dance. I was doing it all while feeling stretched.
But you know what? Somehow I still stayed in gratitude most of the time.
My son wasn’t holed up in his room the whole time. He’d emerge and want to lay in the TV room and ask for me to be near. Not too near, but he asked me to work from the couch in the living room where he could still see me.
He was needy, but still trying to be “cool.”
I followed his lead.
One sweet day he came in and lay on my bed while I was working at my desk. I said, “Go ahead and rest here, take a nap here. It’s okay.”
He grunted, acted annoyed with me and said, “No. I’m not going to sleep here.”
Five minutes later I looked over and he was curled up under my favorite cozy blanket and asleep on my bed.
I canceled my morning to stay close to him and work from home.
It’s also important to acknowledge that his favorite uncle had just died a few days before all of this started.
While my son really did have a high fever that came and went, body aches, and eventually a sore throat and congestion, it didn’t go unnoticed that he may have also been emotionally spent. Grief has a way of moving through the body in its own timing, and sometimes teenagers don’t have the language for what they’re feeling. Sometimes it just looks like needing to be close… but not too close.
So I stayed nearby.
I know enough to know that a regulated nervous system can be borrowed.
Mine could help steady his a bit. So I stayed close, but not too close — just within earshot.
It was a weird flu. Like I said, the fever would come and go. When it would “go,” he’d have these little windows where he wanted to talk. Not about anything super meaningful always — just chit chat.
We had four or five days like this. Me tending to him when needed, giving him lots of space when needed, and him opening up a bit when he wasn’t feeling miserable.
Now we are on day six and he’s beginning to come back to life.
And not just because the flu is easing.
I can see him again.
I see his silliness again — which I actually hadn’t seen for a while. I see a little spark in him again.
It felt like we reconnected.
But in truth, I think he reconnected with himself over these past few days at home.
He needed a reset.
And maybe that’s the thing about being sick.
The body has a way of forcing a pause that we might not choose for ourselves.
School stops. Activities stop. Even the endless teenage independence softens for a few days.
And in that pause, something else quietly happens.
The nervous system settles.
Grief moves through.
Connection sneaks back in.
For six days the flu slowed our whole house down. And somewhere between fever spikes, drugstore runs for medicine, and quiet moments on the couch, I watched my son come back to himself.
Not just healthier.
But softer.
More present.
A little more himself again.
And honestly, I think we both needed that reset.
If you’ve ever noticed your child needing you close during illness, stress, or emotional moments (even if they don’t ask for it directly) you’re not imagining it.
I recorded a short video explaining how children often “borrow” from a parent’s nervous system and why staying grounded in our own bodies can make such a difference in their healing.
In the video, I also share a simple acronym I use often (WAIT: Why Am I Talking?) a gentle reminder to pause before trying to fix or change a moment.
Sometimes the most powerful support we can offer is simply our calm presence.
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