Pumpkin got her first cold and mommy had her first broken heart as a result. It was so extremely sad to watch her struggle to breathe and to wipe crusties from her little eyes. I laid awake for two straight nights just listening to her cough. And you guessed it, I went completely psycho-mom worrying about her.
The first day of full-blown sickness Pumpkin was grumpy, wanted to be held, was tired but wouldn't (or couldn't sleept) and just generally had the ickies. I tried to accomodate her and love on her as much as possible. Late in the afternoon, however, something happened and I couldn't figure out what it was. She simply would not stop crying. I held her, I walked her, I offered her toys, I kissed her. As I was frantically bouncing her from room to room in my arms, I realized that for some reason she stopped crying when I got near the kitchen. It didn't even dawn on me WHY the kitchen made her stop crying. I was just convinced she had some serious internal injury that was placated by the bright orange formica. I kept pacing around, trying to silence her cries and freaking out inside. Finally, Aaron asked in a feeble voice "is she hungry?"
You got it - in my psycho-mom freak-out over her first cold I totally forgot the most basic of her needs. Of course she was hungry. Of course the kitchen made her stop crying because she thought I was there to make her a bottle. Of course.
So I fed her and she quit crying. In fact, she went to sleep and rested her weary, sick little head. Poor baby.
The next day we went to the doctor. She is an absolute angel at the doctor's office. Dr. Wallace diagnosed her with a "bad cold." He also said that she was so beautiful she should model baby clothes or food. I was beaming. I mean, I had known this all along, but it was so nice to hear it from an objective observer; particularly one who has seen thousands of babies in his lifetime. And I simply refuse to believe that it was anything like the "breathtaking" baby on Seinfeld. She really is gorgeous and that is all there is to it.
So the doc sent us home with meds. The first dose ended up looking like a crime scene, with red stains all over her nightgown. Aaron has lulled her to sleep to Stevie Wonder's "Isn't She Lovely" every night this week and now we both have it permanently stuck in our heads. Thanks to her Papa singing this song the day she was born (and oddly it also being the first clue in the crossword that day), we've now all learned all the words to "her song." The lyrics could not be truer and now we know that even her doctor agrees that she is, indeed, lovely.
She's feeling much better, as you can see from her playtime video. I know this is only the first of MANY sicknesses and doctor's visits, but I do not look forward to ever going through this again. There is nothing sadder in the world than her pained and confused face and the realization I can do nothing to help her. Oh well, at least maybe next time I'll remember to feed her.
The first day of full-blown sickness Pumpkin was grumpy, wanted to be held, was tired but wouldn't (or couldn't sleept) and just generally had the ickies. I tried to accomodate her and love on her as much as possible. Late in the afternoon, however, something happened and I couldn't figure out what it was. She simply would not stop crying. I held her, I walked her, I offered her toys, I kissed her. As I was frantically bouncing her from room to room in my arms, I realized that for some reason she stopped crying when I got near the kitchen. It didn't even dawn on me WHY the kitchen made her stop crying. I was just convinced she had some serious internal injury that was placated by the bright orange formica. I kept pacing around, trying to silence her cries and freaking out inside. Finally, Aaron asked in a feeble voice "is she hungry?"
You got it - in my psycho-mom freak-out over her first cold I totally forgot the most basic of her needs. Of course she was hungry. Of course the kitchen made her stop crying because she thought I was there to make her a bottle. Of course.
So I fed her and she quit crying. In fact, she went to sleep and rested her weary, sick little head. Poor baby.
The next day we went to the doctor. She is an absolute angel at the doctor's office. Dr. Wallace diagnosed her with a "bad cold." He also said that she was so beautiful she should model baby clothes or food. I was beaming. I mean, I had known this all along, but it was so nice to hear it from an objective observer; particularly one who has seen thousands of babies in his lifetime. And I simply refuse to believe that it was anything like the "breathtaking" baby on Seinfeld. She really is gorgeous and that is all there is to it.
So the doc sent us home with meds. The first dose ended up looking like a crime scene, with red stains all over her nightgown. Aaron has lulled her to sleep to Stevie Wonder's "Isn't She Lovely" every night this week and now we both have it permanently stuck in our heads. Thanks to her Papa singing this song the day she was born (and oddly it also being the first clue in the crossword that day), we've now all learned all the words to "her song." The lyrics could not be truer and now we know that even her doctor agrees that she is, indeed, lovely.
She's feeling much better, as you can see from her playtime video. I know this is only the first of MANY sicknesses and doctor's visits, but I do not look forward to ever going through this again. There is nothing sadder in the world than her pained and confused face and the realization I can do nothing to help her. Oh well, at least maybe next time I'll remember to feed her.
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