Poor little Mite...

That's what Nana used to say when we weren't well. Today, as I sat stroking Samara's golden locks, so much so that some of that last cradle cap did fall on my chest, willing her well again, I could almost hear Nana's voice with me. I often think of everyone else but us when otherwise all-consumed by these days when my little one is not quite herself. How do people survive seeing their baby so sick, hooked up to machines, begging for a miracle to shine over them? My heart aches for those I know, the so many I don't. Today, while Samara lay limp on my shoulder, grey in the face like yesterday's sky, blue in the spirit like today's horizon, having not been on her own two feet all day, having thrown up into my hair and hands and heart, I could only cuddle her burning little body, give her drips of liquid each hour, willing her to jump down, 'do the monkey', and crack herself up once again. But despite feeling rotten, she still said peeas and tanks all day, still cuddled me back, still smiled when something was really funny. If you give Samara an Oreo, she opens it up, and saves the side with the cream for last. 99 times out of 100 she'll also offer you a bit. Swedish Fish are the exception. Testimony to her strength of character, I say, she is smart and knowing beyond our understanding, gentle and giving above all else, but loving, extraordinary and soulful, always. She knows all 100 animals in her first animal book, can find her favorites in the dark, and when prompted for a certain part of a book will turn pages with poise and haste knowing just where it is. In fact, for a while, we thought we knew better, and would say foolish things like 'I think it might be on the last page, baby' or 'oops, did you miss it' only to be proven wrong. She just knows things. I pray tomorrow she is good as new. Tonight, once more, she sleeps in our bed, but I love it secretly: the cuddling, snoring, unpredictability of it all. When it is so dark she cannot see me, she puts her hands on my face and feels my smile. I do it back. When she is ready to fall asleep, she turns over on her tummy, but leaves her right hand facing up and over to hold mine. When she wakes, she sits straight up and starts knee jumping and raising the roof, that excited for a new day. Gosh, she's incredible. Even feeling rotten today, she's melted my tired heart and made another sleepless night seem like a gift to look forward to. Everything we look forward to. More than I could ever be. Sweet dreams.