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The Three Kinds of Moms When Baby's Sick

Photo Credit: danibabii08/Flickr

Photo Credit: danibabii08/Flickr

I’ve decided that there are three distinct kinds of moms when it comes to having a sick baby.

First, there’s the, “OH MY GOD MY BABY IS SICK what do I do, what do I do? Call grandma, call the doctor, ask the Internet, ask God — please anyone tell me what to do!?” kind of mom.

Second, there’s the, “Oh my God this baby is going to get ME SICK what do I do? I can’t be sick AND take care of a baby at the same time. Can I still hold my baby when I’m sick? What happens when she’s crawling at my leg as I’m hunched over and hurling into the porcelain bowl?! What are the rules on that? How do I keep her out of my puke? Call grandma, call the doctor, ask the Internet, hell even ask God, please anyone, tell me how to do this!?” kind of mom.

Third, there’s a very rare breed of mothers who are nurses, doctors, war veterans, five-time cancer survivors… that kind of thing. They probably advise that the rest of us put a sock in it.

I’m in the second group. I can totally handle when one of my babies gets sick — heck, I was even a trooper that time we were in the NICU (intensive care unit for babies) — but when I start getting sick, I panic. I barely get everything done in a day when I’m healthy, smiling, and excited about life. When a virus kicks me in both the stomach and the head and alters my consciousness (is it Wednesday yet, or Friday?)… well, I’m screwed. Somebody is going to get left and forgotten at daycare, or I won’t have the wherewithal to cancel something or other and the world will end.

Of course, the world doesn’t end. And I do recover, and I don’t lose my job, and we don’t end-up homeless (which is the logical conclusion for any catastrophic thinker). In fact, I just made it through another one of these much-feared events. Sick baby, then sick me. I couldn’t get off the bathroom floor for two days. Thankfully, my roommate and babysitter took over everything. I missed a lot of foster care appointments for the girls, which really stresses me out, but I’m only one person. And people get sick. And maybe there was a baby crawling over my leg while I was puking, after all. We all survived.

More Posts from Rebecca this month:

Why The Kay Jewelry Adoption Ad Offended Me

It’s Never Too Early To Celebrate Black History Month

Meet Gina: The New, Adorable Face of Foster Care Adoption

I Can’t Stop Giving My Baby Nicknames

How To Plan a Birthday Party With Your Adopted Child’s Birth Family

How Was Woody Allen Allowed to Adopt Two More Kids?

How Was Woody Allen Allowed to Adopt Two More Kids?

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