Scary day

Dear Baby Girl:

As I write this, you are settling down into bed for a night of sleep. It has been a long, hard day for all of us -- you, most of all.

You woke at your normal time, along with your twin sister and the silliness began, as usual. But, seconds later, you began to cry.

Knowing this is not typical, I went to see you immediately. As I walked into the room and first caught a glimpse of Lady Bug, who was so excited to see me that she hit her nose on her crib slat and started crying. This delayed my visit to you -- an act that will forever make me feel guilty. I'm always conscience of who I visit first in the morning, trying to mix it up as often as possible. I know you don't care, but I do. Today, you needed me most.

After a few seconds of soothing your sister, I went to you and you were sitting down, whimpering a little. I helped you up, while still holding your crying sister and then your dad walked into the room. Even the sight of him didn't bring out the best in you.

It was still mostly dark, but even in the dimness, we could tell you were pale.

We hurried for the light, only to reveal the obvious -- your skin was, well, I can barely write it to describe it. It was that horrifying.

Where was your typical morning glow? Where was that ready-to-start-the-day smile, the dive into the crib mattress? Where was the sparkling eyes? It was all gone.

Only a minute or two passed and we became more and more afraid. We called 911, we called your doctor. As I got you undressed from your pajamas -- thinking that maybe that would help, somehow -- you stopped crying, but your paleness refused to leave.

Once downstairs, waiting for the ambulance, waiting for the doctor to call, you returned to yourself and even attempted to climb the stairs to get to your sister and dad.

Eventually, some pink started showing through on your cheeks.

The EMT checked your pulse, we refused treatment otherwise and they left. Your doctor's office called. We made an appointment.

The rest of the morning, you couldn't have been sillier -- walking in circles, just as you learned the night before. Your toddling walk soon had that occassional hop to it as you chased after your sister.

I won't bother traumatizing you again with the details of our doctor's visit. We all know how much you do not like strangers.

And, you seemed fine the rest of the day. You will have a test or two before this is over, but right now we are going to give you a high-protein snack before bed each night.

Your Dad and I might have some trouble sleeping. We rushed to your bedside after each nap today. We held you extra tight, extra long. You didn't mind. You're a snuggler after all.

By bedtime, you were completely normal as if nothing had happened.

It's me who will take longest to recover.