Yesterday Stella had her third high fever within a month or two. When I say "high fever", I'm talking about over 104. The nurses that answer the after-hours call-in line at my pediatrician's office know my whole family. Especially the nurse that is on duty between midnight and 3 a.m. Even though I have learned that 104 is apparently "nothing to worry about," I still worry. A lot.
There is something so heartbreaking about a sick, helpless baby who only wants to be held by mommy. Heartbreaking and difficult. Sometimes I wonder if I am the only mom that feels twinges of frustration when I need to pee and have to hold my child or go without her and hear scream at the top of her lungs.
Things like this force my normal multi-tasking brain to stop and focus on what is most important, my sick daughter. I have to push my natural urge to grocery shop, clean the house, do the dishes, and even shower, out of my head and just give my day up to comforting and caring for my precious little patient. It's probably as good for me as it is for her but that sure doesn't make it any easier.
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