Scouty B wasn't feeling well, either. I guess she got a paper cut at Grandmas and curled up on the couch and cried. We missed her a lot.
I was careful not to get upset about how we never got to see the gingerbread houses and the trains, how you rushed through your presents, holding your throat and trying to be happy. I tried very hard not to compare it to the holiday in my plans. You only get disappointed about things when you have expectations that refuse to fade away.
I guess you also get a little disappointed when you spend a little over five hours on Christmas in the emergency room. I didn't want to say this, but I was more than a little disappointed to see that my baby couldn't walk without falling down, that nothing could console her, not even the magic of Christmas morning.
Still, though. You were so tired and missing your nap. You wouldn't eat or drink and you'd been subjected to rectal thermometers, an x-ray, throat culture and rsv test. The hospital room was too bright, there was too much noise in the hallway and you're stubborn. You simply DID NOT WANT TO SLEEP, so we didn't try to make you.
I did hold you while you sobbed and we walked the hallways, though. Your little head slowly came to rest on my shoulder. Daddy pulled the curtain shut and I held you against me while you slept. Your heaviness and warmth were all I've ever wanted.