My girl is sick.
She's been sick for a while.
I've been on the phone with the doctor every day.
I've also been in contact with the CDC. They are coming over next week to place a decontamination chamber in the entryway of my house.
Today is a bad day. I can't stop crying.
This is probably very sexist, but I know I wouldn't be this way if one of my boys were sick.
My girl is so little. She will be four in three weeks. She weighed in at 28 pounds two days ago.
Which means she hasn't even gained 25 pounds since the day she was born.
Here's a pic of newborn Ella:
When she is well, she is my sunshine. Just like the song. We call her "sweetness and light."
Caleb has figured out "Ella" language.
"You say a lot of nonsense, mom, and then say a real word at the end. Like this. Nalal la ee ooo Batman."
Ella has missed a number of speech therapy sessions. She has been sitting in front of the television, glassy-eyed.
She probably got this horrible cold from the ER. Specifically from goopy-eyed kid.
I have to get up in the middle of the night to clean off her face.
Her eyes are red. And goopy.
She also has a bacterial infection. She contracted impetigo and gave it to Daniel.
They're both on antibiotics.
She cries a lot. And throws up phlegm.
I'm emotionally spent.
When I went outside to get the mail today, I recoiled from the light. Recoiled. Like a vampire.
I just finished writing articles on morning sickness for a medical site.
Once upon a time, I was throwing up every morning. My eyes were red, my hormones raged, my mouth tasted bitter.
But my girl was snug and safe.
I would go back to that, so she could be snug and safe again.
I can't stop crying.