Monday, January 17, 2011

Favorite



When Jonah was just five weeks old, he caught a cold that Elena brought home from preschool. He spiked a fever, I took him to the pediatrician, it was fine. He developed a chunky cough, I took him to the pediatrician, it was fine. Days later, when he was still sick, I took him in again, knowing that they would roll their eyes at me, and send us home. Instead, I got the face.

You know the face. Suddenly, everyone is quiet, listening, waiting for the words. The nurse checked Jonah's oxygen saturation. Low 80s. Instantly, I could hear the blood pounding in my ears, feel my heart start to race. The rapid test for RSV came back negative, good news/bad news. Not RSV, good. Pneumonia? Already, I knew that we would have to go to the hospital for testing. What I was not prepared for was that Jonah would have to be taken there by ambulance. I can tell you, watching my newborn baby boy getting strapped into the back of an ambulance... it was bad. And once you see that, you can't erase it. It's one of the clearest images in my memory, I am sorry to say.

We made the long ride to the hospital with me holding Jonah's far-too-large oxygen mask in place, so the medic could work. When we got there, I knew it was going to be rough. Many, many attempts to start a line on a dehydrated newborn. Snapping his tiny body into an immobilizer for x-rays. Some wise, kind nurse suggested we leave the room for the spinal tap, which I will always be grateful for. They urged us to go eat- it was going to be a long night. So, we went to the cafeteria, put plates of food on our trays, and then sat there just staring at it, tears in our eyes.

In the end, pneumonia was ruled out in favor of bronchiolitis, we spent a couple of days in the hospital getting Jonah fluids and medications, and everything was fine. But. I think that that very day, my brain was hardwired to think- fragile, special, different. As it turns out, I was right. I've been accused of treating Jonah as a favorite, but that's not it, really. He just needs me more, has always needed me more. Honestly, the girls have always been tougher, more resilient, more independent, whether by design or by default. Don't misunderstand, they get their share of attention. Lord, do they ever. But, if I have to work twice as hard to get a smile out of Jonah, I'm going to do it, every time.

The truth is, they're all my favorite. When the babies were born, I wondered if I could ever love them as much as Elena, given that she had a two-year lead, and was obviously the best baby in the world. Gabby makes me laugh all day long, is a world-class smarty pants, and is stinkin' cute, if I say so myself. And you know how I feel about Jonah, my beautiful, wonderful boy. I love them all to the point of breathlessness, and they're all my favorite.


2 comments:

  1. Stop.making.me.cry.at.work.

    OK so I shouldn't look at blogs at work :)

    Beautiful tribute to a beautiful family.

    Different, not less. Probably--ok most definitely--MORE.

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  2. Lovely. Such sweetness about all your babies.

    I never understood when others would worry they would never love their next child as much as the child they had. Or that they couldn't love a child that isn't theirs genetically. You love them because of the little people they are and because they are yours (because you love them). Laney is Laney, Gabby is Gabby and Jonah is Jonah- you absolutely wouldn't have it any other way because there is no way to make them any more perfect than who they already are. I feel the same way.

    Now if you have any tricks to make them better behaved, spill it, sister!

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