Monday, August 25, 2008
Livy's Baby Book
I want to log some things I find kinda cute about my offspring so I'll have the memories forever. If I were the nice kind of mom who keeps a baby book, these are some things I would include in it:
~I got it, I got it.
(Especially if something is 'heaby' and difficult to lift. These words are only spoken by this child after she says, "I got it. I got it," and has tried very hard to get it on her own.)
~I hode you, Momma.
(When she wants to hold me, of course)
(Well, it could be worse, I guess.)
~Uuuuuhhhhhmmmmmm, no dank dou. No, no diaper, Momma.
(This was after asking her if she would go get a diaper while I started Cinderella. I love how she pretended to think about my request, when I'm pretty sure her mind was already made up.)
~Night, night Daddy. No, no Momma.
(OK, the story behind this one is kinda long. When I was in class last Monday, Olivia spent the day with Aaron because his weekend is Sunday and Monday. Well, that afternoon she had her first and hopefully last seizure. Aaron was scared to death that Livy might not be OK, but he handled the situation amazingly. He made sure she was breathing, called 911, and rode with her on the ambulance to Cook's, one of the top 5 children's hospitals in the nation. He kept a calm facade for his daughter's sake and gave her the best care possible until I was able to join them at the hospital. When I arrived at the ER, I could hear her whimpering for me from behind the curtain before I could see her, and when she saw me, she melted into my arms and crashed. Thanks and praise be to God - she's fine; it's evidently no big deal, just a febrile seizure, which to a parent is a very scary thing.
We were completely blessed by everyone around us who was wonderful to us that day - from the calming 911 dispatcher, to the speedy and comforting EMTs, to the very knowledgeable and reassuring doctor who spent forever with us. Instead of asking, "Is there anything else I can answer for you?" he asked, "What other question can you think of that I can help you with?" or something to that effect. He made it clear he would be with us until we were going to be ok, regardless of how long it took. The grandparents (and all of our siblings) were there for us, too, driving me to the hospital, getting dinner for us, fetching the carseat to bring back to the hospital so we could go home, offering to jump in the car and drive to town from Nashville, and calling to check up on Olivia. Even one of my instructors helped by sending me a list of suggestions for dealing with traumatic events to share with Aaron, who was clearly, well, traumatized. Basically, it was a terribly wonderful day.
Background info aside, back to "Night, night Daddy. No, no Momma." That night, Livy was going to spend the night in our room, so we made her lovely princess couch/bed into a cozy little pallet on the floor next to mommy. This clearly was not close enough to us, and she was still pretty upset come nighttime. So we held her, talked to her, rocked her, sang to her, etc. until she seemed sleepy. When we put her back in her bed, she was still unhappy, so we brought her onto our bed. She was happy with this for a very short period of time, but she knew exactly what she needed to sleep peacefully. "Night, night (with) Daddy. No, no Momma," she said as she gently nudged me out of bed. So, guess who slept on the princess bed that night? And despite the fact that the princess bed is only as long as my head and part of my torso, and that we have hard wood (ok, faux hard wood) flooring in our room, and that we were up every hour and a half, I COULDN'T POSSIBLY express how wonderful it made me feel to have my daughter in my room that night, asking for her prince charming who so chivalrously rescued her that day, while I slept next to them on a princess pallet. While this is something that certainly could not last forever, it made for a lovely sleeping arrangement last Monday night.)