So 2010 has not been your year so far. Thankfully, there is plenty of time to correct all of that. A few days ago you got sick (again, since you and your brother have been fighting illness since right before Thanksgiving) and this time has been the worst of your little life. The mucus is thick and the tears are frequent and you look so sad all covered in dried goo, pale and pink at the same time.
When your brother got sick like this it meant one thing – constant holding him until the antibiotics finally kicked the gunk out of his ears. You are not so easy. Don’t get me wrong, sweet thing, you are typically the easiest baby in the world. You usually demand little, receive more and are tickled that somebody noticed you. When people ask me about you I tell them you are rainbows and sunshine. It’s the truth, on most days. The past two days you have been more like hot hot fiery anger and I am so sorry. I wish, really wish, that I could help you like you want to be helped, but that immune system of yours is going to have to kick in and save the day in ways Mama can’t. The waiting is annoying me too.
Two nights ago, when the stuffiness and sneezing and wet coughing would not stop, you refused to sleep. You would not sleep in your crib (usually the only place you sleep and the place you lunge for immediately after being bathed and nursed around 6 pm). You would not sleep in my arms. You would not sleep next to me on the little bed I made in your floor. You would not sleep on my chest on the sofa downstairs. You would, however, scream. You rather enjoyed waking up anybody in the tri-state area with the piercing scream from deep in your belly traveling hoarsely up into your nasal cavity. You welcomed Daddy’s arms but only to keep from sleeping all the more. It was a hard night that precipitated an eight o’clock on the dot call to the doctor.
A few hours after the 103.6 temp at the ped’s office and a dose of antibiotics later, you would still have none of the comforting. Mama was at a loss. Exhausted and ready to give up I just didn’t know what to do. I asked God to help. Daddy asked Him too. And then you cried out again and let me hold you all night long. Somehow those hours between eleven pm and seven am can seem like an eternity when a 17 pound, congested baby is suffering in your arms and I hope one day you’ll know the bitter-sweetness of a night spent in a recliner with a baby you can’t really help.
I don’t know what tonight will hold – if you will accept the comfort I so badly want to give you or not – but I know that even the nights like this will be gone so soon. I’m sorry you’re sick, baby girl, but I’m so glad you are here to be my baby.
Love,
Mama
