Get Well, Get Well Soon, We Want You to Get Well

Yesterday I reached out and caught baby puke before it hit the bedspread.  Because that's what mommies do.  You should know that there is nobody else on earth I would do this for but my own baby.  By the end of the day I was covered in smudges of spit-up, drool and baby mucus.  You're sick and I'm so, so sorry.  


There is nothing sadder than a sick baby.  Everything I do to help you just makes you more upset.  I find myself hoping that you'll still love me when it's all over.  I also wonder if you'll remember what kisses are, since I've banned them starting with your first sniffle.  You're not even three months old yet...way too young to have a cold.  But you're a strong, healthy baby (just look at those rolls of baby chub if you need proof) and you should be feeling like yourself in no time.  


I feel like life has been a blur since you were born.  We went from the hospital room to Halloween costume planning.  Then we moved on to Thanksgiving plans.  (Remind me to never invite 20+ people over for a massive dinner when I  have a one-month-old baby again!)  And then there was the flurry of Christmas decorations, shopping, baking, wrapping and get-togethers.  Followed, of course, by actual Christmas, which you weren't impressed by in the least.  The holidays brought on winter colds that have been passed around the family like Christmas gifts, minus the big, shiny bows.  Now it seems it's your turn.  I just want a normal day.  A non-holiday, non-sick day.  I want a spotless house that smells like fresh air and sunshine.  I want to bake a homemade after school snack and make some fresh-squeezed lemonade.  But mostly, I want you to feel like yourself again.  Thank God you still flash that toothless smile so often that my heart is nothing but a melty pile of goo inside of my chest.  Love that little smile.


Dr. Irra says you are teething.  You've been the drooliest baby I've ever seen, so I believe him. There's rarely a time when there isn't a beard of bubbles running down your chin.  And when I offer you a knuckle to soothe you (since you absolutely refuse a pacifier), you chew, not suck.  I don't know when your teeth will arrive, but I'm going to photograph those gums all I can while I can see them.  Yesterday you almost got your hospital pacifier in your mouth on your own.  I gave it to you to chew on and you grabbed in in those chubby fingers, lifted your hand to your mouth...and sucked on the back of your hand like mad.  You've got some mad skills, little one.  We'll work on coordination later.


I've been spending your sick days planning your first birthday party on Pinterest.  I know it's early, but I can't resist the opportunity to plan a party.  I'm thinking vintage pink with doilies, lace and ribbons and a nursery rhyme or book theme.  We'll see what it actually ends up being.  I've been known to go a bit crazy over this sort of thing.  


Right now you are sleeping on the couch and look like an angel.  I've been trying to get you to take some photos all morning since you have on the cutest striped tights and your pink flower headband.  It apparently wasn't what you had in mind because you were unusually uncooperative.  Not to worry, I've made up for it by getting some beautiful sleepyhead shots.  If only every day was this slow-paced.  I'm enjoying these days with you more than you'll ever know.  Sleep well, little one.  I see some reading and snuggle time in our very near future.  Until next time...