It’s been two days since we started E’s eczema treatment and I almost don’t even recognize the girl. Her skin looks phenomenal! There are still some dry patches, but the redness and the oozing are gone. SO. DAMN. RELIEVED.
The hemangiomas are another story. I’m so impatient to see the dermatologist next week. The one on her head is still cracked and bleeding, and now the one on her butt is turning deep red and purple and little sores are showing up on it. The little kids at daycare notice the one on her head, and they’re always asking me about it:
4-year-old: [With a petrified expression] What happened to her head?!
Me: She just has a little owie on her head.
4 YO: OUCH! That looks like it hurts really bad.
Me: Yes, I think it does hurt a little bit.
4 YO: Poor baby, that looks ouchie!
And then I go to the nearest bar and cry over a shot of vodka. Oh wait, that’s the fantasy version of the story. I go out to my car and take a deep breath, because soon we’ll see the doctor and find out what we can do to help E. All these skin issues sure are giving my anxiety a run for its money. LE SIGH.
In non-skin related updates, we’re working on building E’s “sitting up” muscles. Every morning for five minutes, I sit her in her Bumbo seat and give her some toys to play with. In the evenings, daddy and I take turns holding her upright while playing or talking with her. When we put her on her tummy now, she’s started rocking herself forward and putting her arms out in front of her like she wants to scoot herself forward—but she isn’t quite there yet. I told B I was excited that she might be able to army crawl in another month or so, and he didn’t quite share in my excitement. Something about, “Ugh, then we’ll be having to chase after her.”
Eh, I need to work out more anyway.