Sick and Thankful

I can't remember the last time I felt 100%. Seriously. I mean, I haven't slept through the night in over a year. I am plagued by viruses. And if I'm not physically ill, at least one of the kids is. My anxiety and panic, I acknowledge, needs to be medically addressed, and soon.
I am tired.
Today, my head cold (and accompanying nausea) has morphed into the kind of sick where you can't breathe through your nose and raspberry jam tastes like vinegary gel littered with seeds.
So! I have decided to tell you what makes me feel better, ok? Let us dwell on the positive.
My husband is wonderful. He is. He's been home from work for two days taking care of us. He encourages me to sleep in whenever it is possible. He tells me I'm hot even when I haven't showered in four days and my belly's hanging out. He wants to kiss me, even when I'm sick. He does anything I ask him to...and sometimes, he does extra. I love him. He makes me better. He keeps me sane.
My children, sick as they are, are funny, and cute, and brilliant. I want to eat them up, all of them.

I weigh 124 pounds. I guess all this illness tends to take the pounds off. I will say, though, that despite being svelte, I feel weak. Not good. I must get strong again.
Would you like to know what makes me feel the best?
When Liam wakes up from a nap, I go to get him from his hammock. He can be quietly babbling, or yelling, or screaming - it doesn't matter which - as soon as I enter the room, he laughs. Sometimes it's a sweet "hello" laugh; sometimes it's a desperate, "Good LORD, woman, it's about TIME!" laugh. Then I lean over him and tell him he's beautiful and he smiles and reaches for me. When I pick him up, he presses his warm little self into me, burying his face in my chest, and wriggling his legs excitedly. Without fail, he then presses hard against me with both hands so he can study my face. When he meets my eyes he giggles and reaches...sometimes he grabs my ears, sometimes my hair, sometimes my neck. He takes hold and pulls, and I receive the sweetest gift one can experience: a baby kiss. He used to just open his mouth and bounce off of whatever part of my face he could reach. Now, he opens wide, and finds the same spot on my jaw every time, then sucks energetically. He pulls away, studies me again, then buries his face in my neck, breathing quickly, often bouncing in my arms.
I have never felt love so pure from another being. At 7 months old, this beautiful boy has learned to express his joy at my presence and his love for me so clearly that it smashes my heart to pieces every time. Just when I think that that intense ball of emotion in my chest can't get any more intense, it bursts and fills my whole body.
He doesn't like to sit. He hates when I leave the room. He sleeps horribly. He would rather be held than play in his exersaucer or watch a movie or be with his brothers.
But the child, he loves so huge.
I am so, so lucky.