So, Isabelle is sick. As promised this will include the high point, low point of yesterday.
High Point:
Giving Isabelle a bath.-She loves loves loves them. I mean the girl could be at death's door and you put her in a bathtub and everything is good. She kicks her legs with all the might she has and stares with unflinching eyes at the movement of the water as she does this. I love giving her baths....maybe because they do for me just what they do for her.
Low Point:
The second time Isabelle threw-up all over me.- She had first done it on the couch after a long (perhaps too long) feeding. Breast milk covered both her and me and my new jeans. Lovely. But then came the second one. She was sounding as if she was chocking, which sent my heart racing out of control and then out came a curdled flow of spit, applesauce and breast milk. I cried, I called Nate, he came home. Good man!
High Point:
Giving Isabelle a bath.-She loves loves loves them. I mean the girl could be at death's door and you put her in a bathtub and everything is good. She kicks her legs with all the might she has and stares with unflinching eyes at the movement of the water as she does this. I love giving her baths....maybe because they do for me just what they do for her.
Low Point:
The second time Isabelle threw-up all over me.- She had first done it on the couch after a long (perhaps too long) feeding. Breast milk covered both her and me and my new jeans. Lovely. But then came the second one. She was sounding as if she was chocking, which sent my heart racing out of control and then out came a curdled flow of spit, applesauce and breast milk. I cried, I called Nate, he came home. Good man!
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