The inevitable has happened: E has her first cold.
I knew we couldn’t avoid it forever. Especially now that she’s in day care, it was bound to happen sooner rather than later. I was prepared for it, mentally.
I was not prepared for it emotionally. Today when we got home from day care and I realized just how unwell she’s feeling, I actually cried. Every time she coughs, not just one little cough but a dozen of them in a row, wet and painful, my heart constricts and my body tenses up. When she finishes coughing, she cries out in dismay–a type of cry I haven’t heard from her yet. I cringe at the confused expression on her face, the one that says she’s miserable and has no idea what’s happening.
Last night, she was so congested she clawed at her head the entire night. She woke up with bloody scratches all over her scalp, her forehead, and her cheeks. I imagine her trying to get rid of all the junk that’s making the inside of her head feel so awful, and I just deflate at the thought. I can give her Tylenol. I can cuddle her and massage her head. I can rock her and sing to her. But I can’t explain to her what’s going on, or that it’s temporary, or that making the misery go away is out of my realm of mom powers.
Having a sick baby SUCKS.