She has an elevated temp, an upper respiratory infection, a bad cough, and runny eyes and nose. On top of that, every so often she’ll clutch her tummy and just cry, “Make it stop hurting, Mama.” And I can’t. I can’t help her one little bit.
My sweetheart, who is always up for going somewhere and never wants me to leave her behind, said upon arriving at the pediatrician’s office, “Dist weave me in the tar, and tell the dotor to tum out here to see me.” I had to stop at the grocery and the library too, and she didn’t want to come in there either. She didn’t even want a Lifesaver.
Aviana has been a static cling baby all day today. She didn’t want to uncurl from my lap long enough to let the doctor check out her tummy. She barely tolerated him listening to her heart and breathing. He wanted to rule out a Urinary Tract Infection or a kidney infection, so he needed a urine sample. She couldn’t produce, but while we were in there trying, she threw up. Three times. And it scared the Jujubes out of me at first, because it was bright red, and I thought it was blood, but no, that’s just what vomit looks like when all you’ve had in your stomach for two days is grape juice.
She had to have a catheter, because they still needed the sample. I was crying; I was so terrified of hurting her. She was a Brave Bear though and didn’t even whimper, didn’t even flinch. After all that, (and the w….a…i…t…i…n…g…), they could only tell me is to keep doing what I’m doing. Although that’s almost three hours of my life I’ll never get back, at least the doctor reassured me that I’m already doing everything possible to help my sweet baby A.
All I’ve done all day is keep her plied with Harvest Surprise Juice, hold her, smooth her raw lips with Aquaphor, hold her, carry her around with me when ever I get up to go somewhere, hold her, read to her a little bit, and hold her. My arms and back are aching from holding her so much. My heart hurts from the guilt of losing my temper this morning with my very ill, very young child, and the guilt that I can’t do anything to make her feel better. She is sleeping now, and so is her little sister.
Hopefully, I’ll be able to accept God’s grace and forgive myself, and tomorrow will dawn cheerfully and we’ll be able to begin anew– me, the mama, who adores her little girls more than anything, and them, the little girls to whom I’m the world. The little girls, who every day, accept my mistakes and missteps, who embraces our flawed family, and who God uses to show me the essence of His forgiveness of my failures.