Hmm More sickness

Our family is blessed. Really we are. All in all, we're quite healthy little things. That is, up till addition number 2.

Willow's petite frame is an expression of her fragile nature. I've felt that way ever since she was in my womb. She seems to be plagued by sickness more so than the rest of us. And suffers quite a bit even with a small illness. And because I'm so unaccustomed to these glitches in healthy-ness, I fret a fair bit when I see my kids go through it. Because naively I think surely if you aren't as fit as a fiddle, you must surely be on the brink of death!

The last few days have been pretty scary. We've contemplated a trip to emergency after Willow returned I believe to be all the milk she'd consumed in the last half a day onto our bed, followed by another bout early the following morning onto our landlord's carpet (uh-oh). This following a week of it coming out the other end too after her immunisations, and I'm starting to get the dehydrated vibe. Last week we were able to get her 4 month shots after her bout of MRSA prolonged our 2 month shots. And we're attempting to catch up. (She's now 5 1/2 months) I knew she'd be sick from them. These vibes aren't exaggerated given our experience with her little life so far.

Here's her scary moments to date:

7 weeks in utero- we find out that she could become disattached at any moment if the blood vessel burst. God obviously wanted her around! By 13 weeks she was large enough for the blood vessel to not end her life should it have burst (oh, the stress!)

All was well until 37 weeks in utero - We went to the hospital for a tour and ended up staying overnight due to a fainting nausea 24hr virus which made little Wills' heart race dangerously fast for 12 hours. Nurses handed us over to doctors who handed us over to specialists who decided after a night of constant monitoring that they would actually not cut her out of me as was threatened earlier the day before. Her high heart rate could have caused her death. Again, God wanted her to stick around.

37 weeks onwards- constant contractions until a false alarm at 38 weeks and scare at 39 weeks where she didn't move one morning. After a coffee and usual breakfast didn't bring about movement, we went for more monitoring at the hospital. We returned well, but tired, awaiting her eventual arrival.

Her birth was quite unproblematic, with my post-partum hemorrhage being the only issue.

Then 8 weeks out- diagnosed with MRSA (multiresistant stephalococcus oreaus) or something that sounds like that. An aggresive infection which brought the guys in has-mats from the bereau of infectious diseases into our ward and put her into a crib made of steel bars.

3 weeks of antibiotics later, and she's a healthy chicken again. Except for the constant colds... which haven't abated since.

I am blessed though that Willow takes these illnesses in her stride. And I pray for a friend of mine whose girls are always ill with very severe colds, and I thank God that I've never been tried in this measure yet. She's amazing, this friend of mine. I read her blog and I'm in awe of how completely devoted she is to her calling as a mother. And I find great strength in her journey. I'm always so encouraged to continue on with the same enthusiasm in amongst my meager struggles.

So come what may, I have now accepted illness as a constant companion to my life. Forever haunting the hallway. Willing to snatch away sleep from all of us with little warning and replace our smiles with sunkeness. I just hope that the saying is right that "whatever doesn't kill you will make you stronger." Because if that's the case, I know a few superhumans who'll be wandering the globe in another 20 years from now...