Greetings from the land of counterpane.

Mari has been sick on and off for a month now. First it was fever during a trip up north, then diarrhea from the antibiotics, then a runny nose, then a mysterious rash, now last night she spiked a fever of 104! A trip to the hospital and a blood test later it turns out to be a common cold. Some baby tylenol, antibiotics, and lots of rest and her fever's almost gone.

I'm absolutely exhausted. Lots of doubts about your abilities and judgements as a parent surface during those long sleepless nights with a feverish baby. I've had the advantage of being able to raise her exactly the way I want (Stay at home, Exclusively breastfeed until 6 months, Co-sleeping, Child wearing, Cloth diapering, the list goes on and on.) But along with that privilege comes the responsibility of knowing that I'm also solely responsible when things go wrong. Every step taken off the well trodden path of common child care practices come up to light. Ah well, it's smallish price to pay I guess.

Watching your child with an illness is sort of like washing the dishes with gloves on. You see the water you can almost feel your hands get wet and yet, you still have dry hands. Watching Mari scratch a rash on her leg or toss and turn during a fever, I get this feeling that somehow I should be feeling the itch or the fever too. It's almost unnatural that I can't feel her pain physically, just a bare ghost of it in my mind.

We've been spending most days in warm, snuggly, nursing type activities. Lots of cuddles and carrying. She's sleeping peacefully now. Knock on wood that this is it for now.