My baby is sick. It's the WORST. Daycare called me Wednesday when I was at work and said she had a fever, was tugging on her ear, and wouldn't eat. Hannah doesn't skip meals. I made a quick appointment with the pediatrician and sped over to daycare just in time to pick her up and get her to the doctor. She has an ear + sinus infection. Poor girl has so much drainage she sounds like a piglet. She hasn't been sleeping through the night as well as she normally does because she simply can't breathe well. Her cough sounds pretty gross. I can't stand it. My mom and dad took care of her Thursday so she could get some good TLC there instead of going to daycare, and she had a fever and cried pretty much the whole drive home that night. And so I cried.
But then she has her OK moments where she almost seems normal. Like this great moment:
Sometimes when she is on her stomach she gets up on all fours and rocks as if she's going to take off in a real crawl. She has also started making noises that resemble words. I'm thrilled to say that the one thing she repeats over and over again is "Ma ma ma ma ma." She says it a lot when she is sad from being sick and wants me to pick her up or hug her. I melt. And cry.
We've had so much going on lately. Even though I'm part-time at work I had a change in position that made me responsible for a few things that are pretty urgent, so I've been working just under 40 hours a week for the past two weeks. Jason went out of town last week for a big IT rally he and his company put on, naturally leaving right before Hannah got sick. Things always happen when he goes out of town. I don't cry about it because I'm too busy to think about feelings.
I really don't cry all too often, but I have kind of been going through a hormonal spell lately where I am easily triggered. I think the worst thing you can do when you feel like crying is not cry, so I never stop myself. I think my whole thing is that I still can't believe this is my life right now. I have a really beautiful baby girl whose life literally depends on me, and this has forced me to become so acutely aware of so many things. It's like an ever-moving emotional target, and just when I accept the way I'm feeling about one piece of motherhood, something new happens. Like she gets her first real fever and illness, and it's like the fear of her not making it through makes its way into my conscience and beats me up. Or she learns to army crawl like an inchworm on the move, and it's both so cute and terrifying...I'm suddenly hyper-aware of every sharp corner that she could split her head open on, or every live wire she could chew, or every dog toy she could gnaw on, or every dog hair on the ground that's probably getting in her mouth and nose and OH GOD. It doesn't stop. It exhausts me.
Yes, I have to figure out how to live like this. Accept the fact that the world is dangerous - even my living room is dangerous - and my heart is now contained within a 17 lb precious gift whose fate I cannot control. It's hard to realize that the greater the gift the more you feel like you have to lose. I wish I could be grateful and leave it at that. But I can't. So I cry.