Last years Fourth of July you were nothing but a wee little babe straight from my tummy. I was so eager to show my perfect little son off to anyone who would look. Last year I was definitely postpartum; healing from giving birth only a week or so before. I had thrush that burned like stinging nettle as I nursed you and mastitis that made me ache to my bones. However, I was bound and determined to enjoy our first holiday together so we went to my moms annual eagle wood fireworks party. I nursed you in my childhood room as the fireworks lit up the sky just outside my window. it wasn't the perfect Fourth of July but it was pretty perfect holding you. That night I got the stomach flu. I had to sleep on daddy's side of the bed because it was closer to the bathroom. Daddy slept near me and woke to put my hungry babe against my chest as I tried to feed you and sleep. The days that followed were just as trying. My thrush worsened and you ended up in primary children's.
This year I had high hopes that things would be different. I imagined you sitting in my lap as we gazed up at the night sky filled with sparks of color. I imagined the look of wonderment in your eyes as you witnessed fireworks for the first time. Your chubby hands clapping together with excitement. Unfortunately, the firework gazing will have to wait till next year. As I took your temperature tonight I was stunned to see the numbers 105.3 appear on the thermometer screen. Worry struck my heart and your daddy and I spent the majority of the evening soaking you with cool cloths. I wish I could take your pain away. I'd gladly be sick again this year if it meant I wouldn't have to look into your red, wet eyes.
I found that since having children it is customary that things never go as planned. You just have to learn to roll with the punches and enjoy the small things. Maybe next year will be better, maybe it won't but I know it will be wonderful as long as your daddy and I have you and your sister.