The last 7 days have been, well, awful. Awful awful awful. I guess it would actually be the last 10, but whose counting? My last blog highlighted the joys of puking. Little did I know what was to face me in the coming days.
I took Sophie to the doctor on Friday because she was not right. She was obviously hurting in some way, so I figured she had an ear infection - typical. On the way - in the parking lot of the Dr. office in fact - she pooped a massive, diarrhea poop that her diaper and shorts just couldn't contain. I stripped my poor daughter down in the middle of the parking lot, felt grateful for a few kroger bags in the trunk of my car, and took her - pantless - to see her pediatrician, who I adore.
Her ears were, for the most part fine. I was told was that the vomiting was over (hooray!) but that he had seen a lot of this stomach bug and she was starting severe diarrhea and abdominal cramping (hooray?). "I'm afraid she's going to have this through the weekend."
Through the weekend indeed.
One of the worst things I have ever experienced in my life is watching my child writh on the floor in pain saying, "Mommy... hurt... hurt..." and not knowing what to do. I was seriously close to rushing her to the ER on Sunday morning. She was so desperate, looking for anything to relieve the pain. Outside, inside, look in the refrigerator, go outside again... I finally got her to take some ibuprofin and that helped immenselly, but it doesn't take away the torturous experience of watching her, knowing what was going on, and being totally helpless.
I was so thankful to wake up on Monday morning to a happy, pain free daughter. Oh my, was I ever! I had about two days of her vile illness, and Roy got it even worse than I, but Roy and I... I can handle that.
Today I picked her up from day care and they had her school pictures ready. After Sophie went to bed, I picked up her school picture from last year.My how time flies! She was 6 months old in this picture. No hair. No teeth. And I have no doubt I was stressed out about something. We were still co-sleeping, she was still exclusively nursing and I was pumping at least 3 times a day. Looking back I can think of nothing but glory days. Oh to relive them again! I have a hunch, though, that the truth is a bit more complicated.
Here's the picture they took 2 weeks ago. I swear we brushed her hair before we dropped her off. (mom, I got one for you.)
"Such a little lady" my brother said.
A year from now, it's going to be something different. Something stressful. And I will wish for these days. Okay, maybe not the pain and the puking and the load after load of nasty, NASTY laundry, but the time. Definately the time.
So much changes so quickly. I try with all my might to hold onto time as it slips through my fingers. I can feel it as it goes. So every moment I try... I try to remember and hold and appreciate. The late nights in the rocking chair. The squirmy girl who wants EVERYTHING in the grocery store aisles. The temper tantrums on the kitchen floor over animal crackers.
Something tells me this will happened with Every.School.Picture.