Baby fever

Aida has a fever.

It's the third time my baby's been sick in her short life.

The first time it happened, she was only four and a half weeks old. We'd taken her for her first big show-n-tell at Steve's office Christmas party and, a day later, she was coughing and congested.

For me, that sniffle was a major crisis.

Months before, Steve had scored free tickets to see the Lightning play the Thrashers Wednesday, Dec. 15 in Tampa. He hoped it would be our first date night post-Aida -- one of those pre-baby plans that, post-baby, seems almost absurd.

Even before Aida got sick, I was on the fence about whether or not I could get up the nerve to actually step foot out of the house without this beautiful child in my arms.

I knew that Steve really wanted to have a night out with me. And I liked the idea in theory. But after these days and weeks of marathon feedings, changings and cuddlings, the thought of driving a half hour across a body of water to be in a cold rink with hundreds of people who aren't my baby felt just, well, criminal.

When Aida came down with a cold, it cinched it. What kind of mother, ferchrissakes, would leave her child during her first-ever illness? I urged Steve to go on without me and suggested that my mom take my place.

That night, I held Aida for hours in the dim, yellow light of her little moon nightlight. I draped her head over my shoulder and rocked, back and forth, while the misty stream from a warm vaporizer poured over her face.

In those hours I prayed for her health and thought about all the uncomfortable things that would surely lie ahead in Aida's life, all the things I can't protect her from but wish that I could. The colds, the fevers, the heartbreak and hurt feelings. The disappointments and sadness. The scary things. I'm sorry, sweetie.

We rocked and rocked and rocked. I couldn't leave.

I don't remember now how long it took Aida to begin perking up again. I remember that at some point we placed a towel under the mattress to get her on an incline so that it would be easier for her to breath while lying on her back. And we probably kept the vaporizer churning for a good week.

Last night, when Aida cried and I went to her and realized she was sniffling, I asked Steve to set up the vaporizer again. He placed it at the end of the bed while an alert Aida watched on from my arms.  

Sniffle. Sniffle.

I tried to rock her again a little like I did that night. But this time, my sweet, 10-month-old girl arched her back and reached out for her crib as if to say, "Thanks, Mom. But I really just need to put my head down. I got this."

I lowered her gently, patted her tummy, released her blanky into her care and tiptoed out.

Wishing I could take all the head bumps, sniffles and fevers for you. Taken Sept. 8, when we both had boo-boos on our heads.