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The boys were momma’s, though. It was nice to have a child that actually wanted me over Georgia.
Bell was nine months old, going on fourteen.
She was the biggest little diva I’d ever seen, and one of the cutest as well.
But she was our sickly baby.
Being our third and youngest, she got away with things the boys couldn’t. For instance, whereas the boys had to eat what we were eating, I’d give Bell whatever she wanted if she only asked. Not that she did. Unless it was for Georgia’s boob, which she did ask for on occasion still.
The only reason Georgia was still breastfeeding was because it was what was best for Bell. Georgia and I would do anything to make Bell’s immune system better.
In the past six months, Bell had been hospitalized with pneumonia twice, had been on antibiotics for four of the last six months, and had two surgeries. One to place tubes in both ears, and one to have her tonsils removed.
Needless to say, she definitely earned the right to be babied.
I picked my baby girl up and she curled her chubby little arms around my neck and wiped her snotty nose on my collarbone.
I didn’t get grossed out by this type of thing anymore. Three kids had given me immunity to the grossest of things.
The same couldn’t have been said when we’d brought the boys home.
Although I’d done my fair share of diapers with my sisters, I’d never had to deal with other…stuff.
The stuff that came with being the parent of the child, and not the sibling.
Such as this moment right here…staying up with my child when they had high fevers, or when they had the stomach bug.
With three children, it was inevitable with the closeness we shared that I’d be getting whatever my kid had. Then I’d be going to work sick.
But it was fucking worth it. Every single goddamn minute of it.
Getting out of bed, I walked to the window and opened it slightly.
The cold January air poured through, instantly making goose bumps pebble over my bare chest.
Bell was like a tiny hot pack, though. Keeping the front of my chest and face warm.
Going back to the bed, I laid down and pulled the large comforter up and over Georgia’s shoulder. Then I waited for another hour before Bell’s fever finally broke.
Only then did I sleep.***Georgia
The next morning
I blinked my eyes open to see my husband sleeping soundly with our baby girl wrapped around his chest.
They were skin to skin, my husband shirtless in a pair of soccer shorts, and Bell in nothing but a diaper.
Her brown curls were in disarray around her head, and each time Nico breathed in and out, a lone curl would move up and down against his lip.
I smiled as I snuck slowly out of bed, and shivered at the cool bite to the air.
The first thing I did was to walk around the bed and feel Bell’s forehead.
Not hot, but not perfect either. Though she wasn’t running a fever that would warrant more Tylenol.
Leaving her and Nico be, I closed the window and walked out, closing the door softly behind me.
Then I went straight to the coffee pot and made a large pot of coffee, knowing I’d be needing it for the morning that we had planned.
The boys had their four year old checkups in less than an hour, and I’d overslept.
Last night had been rough.
The boys had been bouncing off the wall from all the sugar they’d received at Lolita and Sol’s place.
Then Bell had started running a fever the moment we’d entered the house.
After giving Bell medicine and getting the boys in bed, I spent the rest of the night trying to console my sick little girl.
It didn’t help that Nico was late, and he was the only person that could ever get her to truly stop crying.
It wasn’t anything new, but it never stopped hurting to know that she didn’t feel well since she was sick nearly once a month with a cold of some sort.
She was so used to medicine that she never put up a fight anymore. Sometimes she even asked for it.
“Mommy, I can’t find my shoes,” Boothe cried loudly.
I winced.
I’d been up less than five minutes, and they were already awake.
Would it kill someone to let a girl have her coffee before they started yelling?
“I have no idea Boothe Eden Pena, the shoes were in your room the last time I saw them. If they’re not there, then I don’t know what you did with them,” I replied tiredly.
My head hurt. My back hurt. I was cramping. And I was pretty sure I was getting whatever Bell had last night.
And I had to get the boys dressed so we could go.
At least I didn’t have to take Bell with me.
Nico would be here to watch her so I could get my errands done since it was his day off.
Or would’ve been his day off.
His emergency pager started to alarm on the counter next to me.
With a heart filled with dread, I looked at the readout and wanted to throw the fucker across the room.
“Jesus, would it kill people to stop being stupid for three freakin’ hours so I can take my kids to the doctor?” I growled as I walked into our bedroom.
Nico was already on his feet and handing Bell over to me before he quickly got into his clothes.
He was out the door in less than five minutes, and I was left with a screaming baby who wanted nothing but her daddy. A four year old that refused to wear anything but a certain pair of shoes, and another four year old who refused to get up because his ‘feet were tired.’
Three hours later, though, as I listened to the news conference on the radio, I knew I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Nico had been a part of saving a two year old’s life. A two year old that’d been beaten and molested by his stepfather for nearly two hours before the mother realized what was going on.
