This week you turned two months old.
I was trying to take your picture, but you weren’t seeming too happy. Then papa arrived. He started talking to you, and you lit up. That’s the shadow of his glasses on the right edge of the picture, and you’re just grinning at him. He calls you “my bean.” How’s my bean doing he’ll ask me, or he’ll be holding you and look up at me and say, “look at my bean. she’s amazing.”
You’ve been about three types of sick this week, and being sick is the pits. People that I love dearly have been sick before. I’ve cared for your dad when he was real sick, but caring for you when you’re this small and sick has been one of the hardest, saddest things I’ve ever done.
I love you in a way that I have never loved anyone or anything in my life. When you hurt, when you’re sad or in pain or even frustrated, I feel it in a deep way that is stronger than even my own pain.
I carry your heart. I carry it in my heart.
Last friday you got three shots at the doctor’s office. I held you as you got the shots and heard your deep and fast inhale and then your piercing cries of surprise and pain. I turned you towards me to hug you closely to my chest and then nursed you to calm you.
You cried. I cried. and your papa hugged and kissed us both until we caught our breath.
and then you fell asleep. Here you are in the peace of the after:
Your little fingers were clutching my shirt which was heartbreaking and comforting for me (the holding). I couldn’t make the pain go away. All I could do was hold you and love you and hug you.
On Saturday, Sunday and Monday you threw up a lot. You’ve been very congested, so I’m not sure if it was the congestion or the shots or what. But the vomiting was very scary for you and very scary for me. It was a lot. I ran with you down the hall to the bathroom as you puked, leaving milky puddles in our wake, and I felt so helpless. I clutched you to me over the tub trying to comfort and calm you the best I could.
Some day you’ll be heart sick and home sick and sick and tired and just plain sick with the flu, and maybe I’ll be there to take care of you or maybe your friend or roomie or lover will care for you or commiserate with you. Maybe you’ll call me in tears, and I’ll tell you how much I love you and how wonderful you are and that this too shall pass.
I couldn’t stop thinking about how these types of moments remind us that we were not meant to walk the world alone. In small ways and big ways we need each other.