In sickness and in health

I don't think there can be anything more stressful in life than your child getting sick (or hurt). I guess that it was bound to happen eventually. I just didn't think it would be so soon. She's only 3 and a half months old.

Michelle got her first cough and cold. She caught it from my nephew Reggie who had been sick since Halloween. It was a cold and rainy night for trick or treating this year. (So many people have told me you don't catch a cold from being in the cold but you DO! I ALWAYS caught colds in the winter. You're out in the cold and damp and your nose starts to run and you wipe it and germs get in and you've got yourself a cold.) We didn't think a baby Michelle's age could get sick and even if we thought there was a danger it wasn't as though we could avoid exposure. It was my Mom's big 70th birthday party and everyone had to be there. We also had a smaller celebration on my Mom's "real" birthday. Reggie didn't have any direct contact with Michelle but of course he was at the same table, was coughing, touching things. My sister and my Mom were alternately holding Reggie and then holding Michelle. She seemed fine the next day. She sneezed a few times but it didn't seem that unusual. Later that night however, the nightmare began. It was after midnight and I heard Michelle coughing which was strange. I hadn't heard her cough before. When I went to check on her she was wheezing. Her nose was running and all stuffed up. She woke up crying and it was difficult to console her. Poor little thing. I know how much I hate having a cold. Everyone feels like a baby when they have a cold. And it's far worse for a baby when she has no idea what's going on, why it's suddenly hard to breathe and her nose is sore and runny.

She was understandably upset and wouldn't go back to sleep. I walked with her, rocking her and singing to her for hours trying to console her. When I tried to breastfed her she would take a sip, turn away and cry, take a sip and turn away and cry. She couldn't breathe through her nose which made suckling almost impossible. She had to choose between breathing and eating! I kept trying to clear out her nose with a Kleenex. I'll have to get one of those nasal aspirators to clear it out. I didn't want to drag her out to the store to look for one while she was sick. It's tough for babies who don't know how to blow their noses to clear out the congestion. And you can't give them anything (not that over the counter cold meds do much anyway. I've never found one that helped. The only one I ever really liked was NyQuil because it's yummy and knocks you out at night so you get some sleep at least.) With a child there's not too much you can do for a cold but wait it out.

I made a makeshift humidifier by putting boiling water in a bowl and throwing a towel over us to breathe it in. I thought it might help to clear out her sinuses. She wasn't too keen on the experience. I'll have to look for a humidifier the next time I'm shopping as well. Oh and some Kleenex with lotion. A great invention. So much softer on the nose.

Thankfully the congestion seemed to subside enough for her to breathe a little so that she could feed. And then she fed voraciously. Every hour instead of every two hours. I guess it's like they say -- "Starve a fever. Stuff a cold." She was probably also dehydrated from losing so much fluid. At one feeding she drained both breasts and still seemed thirsty. I tried giving her some water in a bottle. She made a face like "Are you kidding me?" and didn't drink more than a drop. The doctor had told me at the last check-up that I could start giving Michelle a little water if I wanted. I only tried it once and she wouldn't drink it so I didn't bother trying again until she got sick. I know you're supposed to drink lots of fluids.

At one point when I tried to feed Michelle she went ballistic. It didn't seem like milk was coming out. She was screaming as though the world was ending. I was worried I may have actually run out of milk. She'd been feeding so often maybe my breasts couldn't keep up with the demand. To be sure,  I went and got the pump to see if anything came out. The milk was still flowing so that wasn't the problem. Michelle was just frustrated. Luckily she got over it and started to feed again shortly thereafter.

It was a horrendous day. She was fussier than ever and I felt so bad for her. She wouldn't nap for more than a couple of minutes all day. I was so exhausted and drained I started to cry. I wondered how I was going to survive the next 40 years or so worrying about her. I can't even deal with the simplest things. I fell apart when I accidentally cut her thumb once while clipping her nails and now I was crying over the common cold. How would I find the strength to deal with all the challenges and heartbreaks children bring? I get so stressed out when something goes wrong, something beyond my control. I always hated being sick myself but having my child sick is a billion times worse. I wanted to be able to fix it, to cure it, to make her better instantly, to take it on myself to spare her. But of course it wasn't something that I could change. It was a case of the sniffles and would have to run its course, as hellish as that course might be, for Michelle and for me.

I consumed plenty of orange juice and chicken noodle soup thinking that some of it would get to her through my breast milk. I had heard that breast milk was full of antibodies. I guess I had hoped it would make her immune to everything but babies are so vulnerable. Everything is new to them so if exposed to a virus, it's very hard to fight off.

I figured that plenty of fluids and a lot of rest were her best bet for a quick recovery so I didn't mind feeding her every hour or so, day and night when she demanded it and I tried to stay with her almost constantly so that she'd sleep (she would wake up and cry the instant I tried to get up. She finally settled down late at night the next day and I had to rush to put the garbage out while I had the chance. Meanwhile I was in my pjs, hadn't bothered to get dressed all day, hadn't showered or done my face. I looked like a zombie. But at least there was no one outside at that hour anyway.)

The next day Michelle was a little better but I had caught the cold. Figures. My throat was sore and my nose was running. I wish someone would come up with a cure for the common cold. All 200 strains of it. I've had so many colds in my life I would have thought I've had almost all of them by now.

It's hard. Before becoming a Mom I only really had to worry about myself. Now I worry about her and if something happens to her it's far worse than if it happened to me. I love her more than my own life. It terrifies me. I can be a bit of a control freak. Part of me just wants to keep Michelle in a protective bubble and keep her away from the world so she's not exposed to anything. People have warned me that when children start school, they are constantly getting sick because they are exposed to so many germs from other children. Children get sick all the time because their immune systems aren't fully developed yet. It's scary. But I can't protect her from life. I can't keep her away from other children. I try to be careful. I wash my hands a hundred times a day. I try to clean everything. But then you go out and you can't control what everyone else is doing. She is going to touch things and people and be contaminated by germs. It's inevitable. You can't control the world. You can't guarantee a clean environment (you could drive yourself crazy and become OCD, wearing gloves everywhere or sporting a Hazmat suit and running around sticking biohazard stickers on everything.) Everyone could be contagious. Everything could be a hazard. At some point you have to relax, lighten up, let life happen. As a child I didn't worry too much. I was a bit of a tomboy for a while. I spent the whole day outside, playing in the dirt, catching frogs and snakes. And I survived. My brother accidentally ate a piece of bread full of beetles when he was a toddler ("Wait a minute. We don't have raisin bread!" my mother screamed as she realized what he was eating in the backyard) and he survived. Some people argue that being exposed to some germs helps to toughen children up and make them healthier later in life. If you do live in a completely sterile environment with no exposure to anything then you never develop antibodies or immunity. So maybe Michelle getting sick so early has an advantage. It may toughen her up. It may give her body a chance to learn how to heal itself and recover from an illness.

In the scheme of things, this really is no big deal. It was just a bit of a rude awakening, seeing my child sick for the first time. It's not pleasant. I want the best for her. I can't bear to see her suffer even in the smallest of ways. But maybe it's a learning experience for us both. I get to be a Mom and comfort her. I'm making sure we're both getting plenty of rest and fluids. We stayed in our pjs all day. Michelle seems to be dealing pretty well with the cold now. She was smiling and back to her old self again. She had her tummy time, played on her gym and in her jumperoo. I cheered up a little too when I realized that she's OK. It is just a cold after all.

At some point I'm going to have to learn to let go. To relax. It's not the end of the world (even though sometimes it feels like it.) This too shall pass. Life isn't perfect. She's going to get sick occasionally. Sh%$ happens. She'll be exposed to all kinds of things out in the world and from other people. I can do my best to protect her and watch out for her (and hopefully not let her eat any beetles!) but I can't drive myself crazy worrying or try to keep her sheltered. I can't keep her in a bubble, as much as I may want to.

Maybe this is another rite of passage for me as a Mom. Somehow when we're sick we need Mom most of all. When we catch a cold, many of us wish we had Mom there to nurture us, tuck us in, bring us orange juice and chicken noodle soup. To hug us and love us and tell us we're going to be OK. Now I get to be the nurturing Mom helping my little one to feel better. Michelle is learning at a very early age that I am there for her, in sickness and in health, that I will always be there to comfort her and help her through anything. And maybe I'm learning to lighten up a little. As a new parent, I'm nervous about anything going wrong. It's all uncharted territory. But once you have dealt with something, you gain confidence. You realize that it's going to be OK. Each small catastrophe that we survive (whether it be a cut finger or a runny nose) makes me a little stronger.

My baby ghoul!

Of course she's too young to go out for Halloween this year but it's still fun to dress her up. I couldn't resist this cute little skeleton sleeper. I'll still dress her up on Halloween night. She can come to the door with me when the kids come trick or treating.

My sister suggested I could take Michelle out but it would be silly. She's too young to understand it at all and obviously the candy would be for me, not her! It would be pretty awkward knocking on doors saying "Trick or treat...Yes she's only 3 months old and breastfeeding, not on solids, but please give me some junk food to stuff my face!" I don't need that kind of temptation anyway. I'm having a hard enough time restraining myself from eating the box of chocolate bars I bought to give out on Halloween as it is! Also taking her out would mean I wouldn't be home to answer the door for the kids. I figure next year when I take her out I'll just go really early and still be back in time to answer the door for most of the kids. I'm trying to remember what time they usually start. I think it's sometime after 6 pm. The little ones with their parents are usually the first out. The bigger kids and teens come later but I think it's usually all wrapped up by 8 or 9 pm. I'll have to pay more attention. I hope I don't run out of candy. (It's taking a lot of self-control for me not to eat it all myself!)

Halloween is a tricky holiday for a single parent. Usually if you had a partner, you'd split the duties. One goes out to walk the child around trick or treating and the other stays home to get the door for the neighbourhood goblins. I never want to be one of those people with the lights out and no candy on Halloween. I know I hated that as a kid when I'd go to a door and no one would be home. It was such a buzzkill when you were racing from porch to porch and then one of them was a dud. How dare people miss Halloween!

My mother never liked Halloween. My sister was surprised that Mom never got a picture of us on Halloween. With all the pictures she had of us, why wouldn't she take one of us in our costumes?! I guess she was just trying to forget the day altogether. But what is cuter than a kid dressed up for Halloween?! I always loved it as a kid and as a young adult, especially in my goth days. Back then (in my 20s) every day was Halloween (just like the "Ministry" song...) I used to go nightclubbing four nights a week downtown back in the day. With my pale skin and dressed in funeral black I looked like a vampire most of the time. On Halloween, I just kicked it up a notch with black wigs, fake blood, etc. I was usually a vampire or a ghoul of some sort. More recently I was a devil a couple of times.

I'm not quite as scary as I used to be! I prefer dance music to alternative now. I own clothing that isn't black. My favourite colours are turquoise and fuschia. I don't really watch horror movies anymore (I prefer comedies.) I paint happy pictures (instead of morbid self-portraits) and write happy songs (instead of dark, depressing poems). I guess I've softened over the years. My days of partying, downtown clubbing, dancing until the wee hours are over. (Though I still do love to dance, now it's with a 12 lb baby in my arms!) I got to enjoy the single life longer than most I suppose. A lot of people "settle down" and have kids in their 20s or 30s. I had another couple of decades to dance all night, stay out late, sleep in. Mind you even in my wildest days I was pretty conservative and always the proverbial good girl. I didn't drink or smoke, never did drugs, never got into trouble. I guess the most reckless thing I did was fall for the wrong men. That's all behind me now. I suppose I could say that I fell for the right man eventually (ironically the most wrong of them all), the one I was meant to meet, because he's the one who gave me my sweet Michelle. He just wasn't meant to stick around. Though he was her biological father, he was unfit to be a Dad.

Mike didn't know his own father. I speculated at one point that it might be Satan. He grinned at that. We watched "Rosemary's Baby" while I was pregnant (probably not the best idea. I wanted to watch movies about pregnancy and he wanted to watch a thriller so that was our compromise!) Mike didn't mind being called a devil. His nickname for me was "Angel." We certainly were opposites. Mike was very drawn to the dark side. He was a goth though he didn't see it that way. He was a horror movie fanatic and was fascinated by all things macabre. I still can't believe that his dungeon of an office filled with skulls, scorpions and swords is now Michelle's nursery! What a transformation. (Of course it had been a guest bedroom/collectibles room filled with dolls before Mike moved in and claimed it as his space.) I actually contributed some artwork to Mike's office when he was setting it up: Some scary black and white self-portraits from my gothic days. He liked them. I had been in a dark place in my 20s. Maybe that was part of what drew me to Mike. I understood some of that sadness and anger and angst. Though his darkness was far blacker than mine ever was. The life he had had made him a pretty messed up boy. Maybe he wasn't evil. Just weak, damaged, broken. There was something beautiful in him, in spite of everything. Behind the tough act. A vulnerability in his stunning blue eyes. Sometimes when I look at Michelle I can't help but see him in her. I try not to see it. Most people say she looks like me. I  hope there is more of me than him in her. I'm pretty sure there is. She definitely takes after my family because there are photos of my nephew as a baby that are IDENTICAL to her. I also see similarities with my own baby photos, my nieces and my brothers.

Michelle is my little devil. And my angel. My sister gave me this little devil costume months ago. At the time I thought it looked huge for her. I didn't think Michelle would fit into it by Halloween but she's grown so much that it's just perfect.

I look forward to future Halloweens with my little girl (ghoul!) Dressing her up and taking her out trick or treating. Visiting a pumpkin patch (total photo op!) Carving pumpkins together. I'll get to relive my childhood again through her. She will keep me young, bringing back the sense of fun and magic at holidays and every day.

She came into my life at the perfect time. I've been pretty immature most of my life. I was a late bloomer. People always guessed my age to be much younger than I was. (I still got asked for I.D. sometimes at bars and casinos!) Partly because I inherited my Mom's anti-aging gene and partly because I still felt and acted like a kid. I never felt like a grown-up. The reason I didn't plan to have kids was that I didn't feel responsible or mature enough. I wouldn't have been ready for it before now. Although I guess it's the act of having kids itself which forces you to grow up. You have to rise to the challenge. You have to be responsible and committed because you don't have a choice. Of course that doesn't mean you have to lose your sense of fun. When I dated men who had children I felt like more of a friend to them than a Mom. I hope I can be a friend as well as a Mom to my little Michelle. I want to be a "cool" Mom. Someone she'd want to hang out with. Of course I will lay down the law as well. I have a little of my mother's overprotective streak in me. I hope I can find the balance between being overly strict and too lenient.

On Devil's Night Michelle will officially be 3 months old. I still can't believe it. The last year and the last few months especially have been such a rollercoaster. Michelle has transformed my life and my self in so many ways. She was worth waiting for. I'm happier than I've ever been. She is the best thing that's ever happened to me. Even when she's a little devil!