The Curse Is Real

So The Queen was sick this week.

I always get extra nervous when she gets sick.  Her Down syndrome isn't something that really impacts our day to day lives too much.  It just is who she is.  I don't think about it much.  I don't think about it in terms of raising my daughter with Down syndrome.  I think about as raising my daughter.  Funny how when I was pregnant it was all I thought about.  Her diagnosis.  Now I'm too busy thinking about her.  The actual amazing person that she is.

But when she gets sick her Down syndrome comes rushing to the forefront.  It means she gets sicker than the other children.  It means she is sick longer. And with her heart defect it makes fevers feel more perilous.

I don't know if that last one is an actual medical danger or just how I feel.  But I feel it none the less.

For a few days it was just a runny nose, and a low grade fever.

Then a switch flipped.  She was whiney.  She was lethargic.  She was running a high fever that over the counter meds weren't touching.  And she was touching her ear a lot.

She cuddled any available body.  She fell asleep on my chest and as I cradled her hot little body I could feel her heart working over time.

She was really sick.

I was really scared.

It was no longer a cold.  But was it more serious than a virus that needed to run its course?  The ear clutching gave me the excuse I needed to run to urgent care.

I got dressed to go in the first things I grabbed from my closet.

Jeans and the cursed sweater.

It was there.

I wasn't feeling picky.

The trip to urgent care was uneventful.  Queen seemed to enjoy the novelty of riding in Daddy's big SUV.  I think it afforded her a level of luxury that was missing from her life.

We checked into the clinic and settled down in the waiting room.

All was well.

Until it wasn't.

The Queen started to fuss.

I stood to rock her and as I shifted her head up on my shoulder she puked down the back of my sweater.

Multiple heaves shook her tiny body as hot liquid flowed down my back.  I flipped her to my hip to take her to the bathroom to get cleaned up and she puked all down the front of my sweater.

Hot vomit in my bra.

Motherhood is so glamorous.

I'm 100% positive this was the work of the evil spirit haunting my sweater.

She didn't puke before that moment.

And she hasn't puked since.

A vengeful spirit is seeking revenge on my sweater.

And they're off to a good start.

To add insult to injury there was a spare outfit for the Queen in the diaper bag.  But there wasn't a spare shirt for me.  I almost never ever rarely ever get puked on in public.  The Greatest saved the day.  He gave me his sweater and spent the rest of the evening in a plain white t-shirt.  He really is The Greatest.

In other Queen Bean news, she had a round of steroids and is midway through a course of antibiotics and she is nearly back to her sweet sassy self.

I'm so glad she's feeling better.

On the knitting front my fade grows and grows.

I'm on my final color and I'm already planning a second one.  This pattern is addictive.  I would love to knit one from all variegated yarn but I'll be stash diving for this one as well, so a mix of semi-solids and variegated yarns will have to do.

I'm not even mad about it.

It's gonna be glorious.