Nora-bean,
Today you were sick with some kind of bug that made you throw up–not ‘spit-up,’ but real throwing up until there was only clear bile left in your tiny belly. You were so sweet about it, too. No crying, just your pale little face looking up at me trustingly from the bathtub, the beginnings of tears in the corners of your huge blue eyes. When we got you cleaned up, you sat on my lap, snuggling into me until you fell asleep. I’m so sorry that I couldn’t fix it for you, sweetheart. I can keep you clean and try feeding you a little apple juice every so often, and I can hope you feel me loving you through everything I do. We just have to wait it out, and I’m sorry about that.
I have a strange feeling that this is what parenting is going to be like a lot of the time.