My Baby

*The pics are of Baby and Bubba "helping" to cook dinner.

Thank you to everyone who has had our Baby in your thoughts and prayers over the last few days. While we are hoping nothing invasive has to be done, we are still unsure and appreciate everything you all are doing.

Tonight I got the Baby out of the luke-warm bath, wrapped her up tightly in her towel, and rushed her to the bed. The bed is her transitional spot, where she drinks her milk as I (or Evander) busily put on her tiny Hanes socks with the faded pink toes and the stained bottoms (because she always likes to walk outside as soon as she wakes in the morning), her "night-night diaper", and her jammies (which tonight happens to be a NEW exquisite purple Disney Princess nightgown). Then, as she always does, she said goodnight to Bubba, Belle, and her Mermaid movie on the mantle as I whisked her down the hallway and into her candy pink room. I tucked her tightly underneath her Mermaid blanket, kissed Lambie (who is really a baby doll), Cinderella, and finally Baby as I whispered, "Night-night! I love you!"

Up until her fall, every night has transpired in exactly this order, leaving nothing to the imagination and no room for spontaneity (thanks to her Bubba). And, every night up until her fall, she has peacefully drifted off to sleep. However, tonight, like the other three nights since her fall, she began to cry as I left the room. I hear her in the monitor crying, "Mommy! Mommy! Up please Mommy!" With Bubba, this is nothing unusual and easily ignored, but with the Baby, MY baby, it is not.

As thoughts of vomit and head swelling entered my mind, I managed to keep it together for 20 minutes before racing in to find her lying on her cotton pink sheet, just as I had left her, with the exception of big alligator tears streaming down her sweet chubby cheeks. She rested her head on her mattress and stopped crying as I stroked her head. As I sat with her in silence, listening to her every breath, wondering if I should even be touching her head, a tear slowly started to fall down my own face. At that very moment (as I was thinking Get It Together Mom), the Baby reached out her tiny little hand and tightly wrapped her fingers around my pinkie. She looked right into my eyes and smiled at me, as if to say, "Don't worry! I will be OK!"

If you know me at all, you know that I worry, and to say that I am worried is an understatement. I am worried about what is to come, and I am worried about everything that is happening now. I am even worried about making myself more worried. I know...it will be alright. I know...we will make it through, and yes, I know...I am strong, but none of those things matter when your Baby is sick.