Archive for August, 2013


Saturday night, Jet had a lot of trouble sleeping because she was both very congested and gassy. Sunday morning, she threw up all over me, and soon after had a round of diarrhea. This was enough to convince me to take her temperature (100.2), which was enough to convince me to call the nurse line, who told me to come in. So we saw the doctor, who said it was probably just a virus and we just needed to keep an eye on the fever, make sure she had enough wet diapers, and use saline drops in her nose. Call if the fever hits 100.4. Hooray no antibiotics!

So I took my fussy little munchkin home and put saline in her nose and let her sleep on me instead of in her crib. She had a good nap and was mostly back to her sunny little self. A little quicker to cry when she needed something, but otherwise acting fine. At 8pm, her fever hit 100.4. I wouldn’t say I freaked out, but I definitely called the nurse line without hesitation. Finally our choice of pediatrician has paid off! They said to call back if it goes to100.5, but that100.4 was still okay, and to let her sleep rather than wake her for rectal temps. So I called in to work and called her in from school, and put her to bed.

Through the night her temp stayed down, and this morning (Monday) she was back below 99 and while congested and clingy, otherwise acting totally normal.

Tomorrow she goes back to school, barring another fever tonight. In short, this has been the easiest and least scary first time my child got sick I could have hoped for. Yay!


So I’m not the best mommyblogger out there. It’s okay. I don’t make money on it and I never will. It’s been a long time since I posted, which seems to be kind of how I do things. I’m hoping to write my birth story soon, before it fades any further from my memory. Parts of it are etched there forever but other parts are already foggy.

Last night I wrote a poem during our 3am nursing session. It still needs some polishing. So instead, here’s a poem I wrote on 6/9/2013, when my daughter was just 2.5 weeks old. At the time we were still struggling with breastfeeding, and sleeping on the couch with her on my chest. Those nights were hard and my whole body was hurting from motherhood, but even then my heart was expanding like the big bang had gone off inside me. There’s no other way to hold on to so much love as I have now other than to have my whole world shift and churn and grow to accommodate it. I was terrified every moment for this fragile new life I held in my arms 24 hours a day. I digress. To the (possibly mediocre, I could never judge my own writing) poetry with bad spacing because I can’t figure out how to have a single carriage return:


I hope I never forget this.
The smell of her
with her heavy head pillowed
on one aching breast
and her milksweet warmth pressing
against me in sleep.


Her breath is uneven.
Her so-small fingertips wriggle
unconsciously against my skin and
clutch the edges of our blanket.


I should be sleeping like her
but I am so filled with wonder
at her
and all she was is will be.


I want to frame this moment,
hold it fresh in my mind forever.
I am sleeping with the tiniest perfection.
And I cherish her.