Sometimes as I struggle with the whole single parenting thing, I really do have reason to believe there's someone looking after me. Balancing the whole executive career thing with child in general is tough, but toss in some travel requirements and unexpected long days and watch those multitasking/organizational skills blossom. However, stuff generally tends to work out. Earlier this week, I was in New York on business, followed by Toronto. I knew that Makeda had acquired a bad cold while I was away, but there seemed to be nothing significant about it. I took an early flight back from Toronto so I would get home before she went to bed, Tuesday night. I arrived home at about 7:00pm and unfortunately, due to the cold, she had passed out early. I logged onto the computer at home, baby monitor at hand. By about 7:30, something didn't seem right with the noise I was hearing. I grabbed her out of the crib and it was obvious she was having some trouble breathing. Off to emergency we go. Breathing difficulties come and go - as long as I keep her sitting up, she mostly does ok. Five hours later, finally get a doctor. Diagnosed with croup ("oops" says the doctor, she should have been fasttracked, I wonder why the nurses didn't do that). Moments later, on steroids, no oxygen required yet but she's not allowed to leave. Five more hours later, allowed to go back home. By now it's 5am. Write off the remainder of the day (which, unbelievably, only consisted of 2 hours of easy to ditch meetings - an absolute rarity these days) while I hover over her as she sleeps most of the day. The cough starts. I know it hurts her. She sounds like a little seal, but there's nothing I can give her, other than some children's tylenol. Slow, steady recovery with that ever-constant smile on her face. By today, she was almost completely recovered, which is apparently just going to happen in time for my Wednesday flight to Portland for a conference. See? It's magic.
And did I mention she managed to keep that smile on her face? Here's today's photo op.
