I came home from work to find a not-feeling-good-little-girl. Bill was off that week and said she hadn't been feeling great that day and it was getting progressively worse. She just wanted to be held. She lay draped across my lap with her head laying on the arm of the chair, her body curled around me. I had my hand up the back of her shirt rubbing her back - it felt like it was on fire. She had the "half-eyes" I call them - indicative of having fever. She just looked absolutely miserable.
Her fever held on and she just wanted to sleep. I knew she'd get upset if I put her to bed so early - plus she just wanted to be close. Instead, I laid her on the couch next to me with my hand on her tummy. She was content and slept, but would wake up every few minutes startled and thrash about. We decided to give her another dose of Tylenol and I'd just go lay in bed with her.
Here she is - cuddled next to Mama in the dim light of our bedroom. It was a long night, but she was home with Daddy the next day. Her fever had broke by morning, but was back again Friday afternoon and evening.
Saturday she was good, but I woke up with a terrible sore throat. I know exactly where it came from. That night with my feverish baby girl cuddled up to me - coughing into my hair.
This caused my first diagnosis of bronchitis that hung on for a month and counting. I'm still coughing, but it is almost gone.
And yes, I'd do it again. In a second.
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