Kate is an icosahedron

An icosahedron is a 20-sided figure. I say Kate is an icosahedron because every time I feel like we have turned the corner, there is another corner. It's fevers, and potassium levels, and extra fluids, and general discomfort, and contact rashes, and and and. And it's all part of recovery. She's doing just fine, it's just that recovery is hard.

Here is a list of other things that are hard:
Hearing her cry and not being able to just pick her up and hold her.
Not being able to make the hurt just go away with a kiss and a bandaid.
Leaving her each night at the hospital.
Leaving her sweet brother each day to go back to the hospital.
Waiting.

I know it's all just time now. She gets a little better each day, even with all the challenges. And in 2 months, she'll likely be right back to her old self working on crawling and getting into all kinds of mischief. But for right now, tonight, this is hard.

So as not to leave anyone on a downer note, she played with bubbles today. She was crying and uncomfortable, but had already had all her medicine for the pain. So the nurse brought in some bubbles, and for the next 30 minutes, as I blew them, you could just see total satisfaction in her eyes. She watched, and tracked, and savored them. And she stopped crying. So, as a little tribute to Kate, go blow some bubbles today and bring some joy into the world. And if you do, take a picture and send it to me. we'll print it out and put it up on her crib so she can see all the fun.

Much love,
Team Kate