Is there anything more cute and at the same time more ominous than a baby sneeze?
Le Petit came home from school with another cold, and I saw it as my maternal duty to catch it before Mademoiselle did so that she could get the antibodies in my milk. Well, despite my best intentions (and probably because of my constant coughing), she's now got the antibodies AND the cold. I feel guilty because le Petit didn't get a single cold for the first nine months or so of his life.
Yesterday evening she started to sneeze, with that precious expression of startled confusion that I so love. Then her tiny nose started to run. By bedtime she was breathing loudly. In the middle of the night, I woke up to her labored breathing and tossing and turning; I nursed her, then lay awake anxiously listening for her to stop breathing altogether.
I know that a cold is annoying, not life-threatening, but at two in the morning the distinction wasn't too clear in my head. I also selfishly wondered how the rest of the night would go. Her breathing eventually evened out and she fell back asleep for a long time, and I did, too. She's still breathing through her nose, so things aren't so bad.
I put her baby swing in the bathroom this morning while I took a shower, giving her the benefit of steam to open up her nasal passages while I chatted with her about hairstyles and beauty secrets. (Should I admit that? Does anyone still believe I was ambivalent about having a girl?) Of course, she's already beautiful ("And don't let anyone tell you otherwise," I insist) and she's still bald, so I doubt either were of any use as of yet.
Here's hoping the ominously adorable baby sneezes pass fast.