the sick

It started out as an innocent cough. So minor, it could've been mistaken for some spit-up down the wrong tube. But the cough didn't stop. Then she started feeling warm and would cry if I tried to put her down. I took her temp. Too hot. By midnight, cough and fever had progressed to congestion and trouble breathing. I was convinced she was going to die. We held that baby all night and didn't sleep a wink. Morning was a long time coming. But finally, the doctor's office opened and they told me to come down right away.

The nurse weighed her. "She's gained 2 ounces since her check-up on Monday!" She took her temp. (Of course, she didn't cry this time.) Normal.

I stammered, "uh, I just gave her Tylenol an hour ago. Maybe that's why her fever's gone..."

A quick exam by the doc and he concluded, "Yup, she's got a cold. Keep doing what you're doing. She'll be better in about a week."

A cold? I thought to myself. A cold??? Am I totally crazy? I almost brought her to the ER last night.

Silly me.

Silly me for lots of things. For thinking the cold was a deadly virus. For waking the doctor up at 1 in the morning because my baby had a stuffy nose. For being convinced I damaged her sinuses with the bulb syringe. But mostly for thinking that childbirth was my formal initiation into this thing we call "parenthood." There is a new initiation practically every day. And I'm feeling humbled by it.

Day 3 and still a little groggy