Norah has been sick the past few days. She's had nose clogging and dripping, a slight fever, and a fabulous case of The Crankies. That first day, she was really only happy if she was sleeping or I was holding her and that shot me straight back to the days of The Beast. Sweet goodness, how glad I am that we got over that.
And for the most part, I handled her cold well. Until last night. The culmination of fever, nose bleed, putting the humidifier in her room,, and her waking up at 10:00 shrieking from a disgusting dirty diaper made all those stupid anxieties that I have gotten better about, come firing right back at me.
What if her fever spiked in the night and I didn't know it? What if her nose really started bleeding? What if she was humidified to death? If I could get through just one week without worrying about that baby, it would be a miracle.
I was all worked up last night, and stayed up watching Dr Drew for far too long, so when Norah woke up at 7 and was ready to go, it was all I could do to roll out of bed and bring her back to my room. I tried to keep her occupied while I snoozed, to no avail. So we got up at 8. Bleh.
All of that is leading up to this: Since I was awake and ER was not yet on, I read my Bible for the first time since...I have no idea. I read aloud to Norah. And then I pulled her in my lap and I held her in her green and pink parrot jammies and I prayed, out loud. And then I cried, for the love and grace that God extends to us sinners, for Him welcoming us back when we have been gone for so long.