Bean got me sick. I know that I should have been expecting this. I am after all, with her all the time. I'm covered in her spit-up daily and admittedly, my favorite past time is sucking out her boogies. Despite my frequent use of hand sanitizer and washing with anti-bacterial soap, it appears that the woes of living in a one bedroom apartment and breathing the same contaminated air have finally caught up with me. Her hacking cough quickly became my hacking cough. Bean had become my Typhoid Mary.
When I'm sick, I want three things: matzoh ball soup or won ton soup with extra spicy mustard, Law and Order SVU , and pastina. These three things have seen me through stomach flues, colds, and hangovers. Sometimes, I need orange juice and maybe some Gatorade, but those three cures are restorative to any one's soul. What then, do you give a baby with an ear infection? Warm milk? Even typing that, makes me want to gag. If my husband heated up milk for me to drink when I was sick, I can say with certainty that I would throw up on his shoe. I think, Bean felt the same way. Every feeding was labored; the solid food that she had voraciously been eating prior, sat sadly on the table untouched. What was more upsetting to me, was that my happy, cheerful baby was fussy. She no longer giggled after every sneeze, but instead looked sad and dazed.
After a trip to the doctor, some very long naps, and a healthy dose of antibiotics, I'm happy to report that Bean is better. More importantly, I've discovered her three cures: intense booger sucking sessions with my my hospital-grade aspirator, a humidifier, and cuddling. My tale, however does not end here. As Bean's fever decreased, mine increased. My hacking cough would startle and awake Bean nightly. I'm sure you are familiar with the adage, "let sleeping dogs lie." Well, that applies to babies as well. This is when my husband took over. After hacking up a lung while in bed, my husband gave me NyQuil and I was down for the count. I slept more soundly than I had in months. My husband, or whom I shall refer to hereafter, as Saint Husband, woke up to feed Bean every morning when I was sick. He left me to sleep and zone out on the couch while he took care of Bean. He didn't care that I smelled or that my hair was greasy or that I was dripping snot all over the place. He made me pastina, ordered me soup and let me watch repeats of Law and Order SVU.
He took care of both of his babies.