So while her mom is out gallavanting about the countryside with her girlfriends, Katie, our oldest, broke out in spots. Lots and lots of them. On her face, on her stomach, on her back, on her arms, in her mouth...everywhere.
She is miserable, and I am suffering from a bad case of mommy guilt. Guilt that I left her when I knew she wasn't feeling well (I had no idea it would be chicken pox, or I would have stayed home) and guilt that I didn't get her the immunization that would have prevented this.
Here is my beautiful girl, covered in pox:
This was actually taken yesterday. She looks worse today and was in no humor to let me take her picture again.
To make matters worse, she is worried that she will miss our family's plans for Labor Day weekend. My aunt and uncle have a huge get together at their farm with music, food and lots of cousins and friends we don't get to see very often. I think my kids enjoy the Allen Hog Roast more than Christmas. To miss it would be heartbreaking.
Mackenzie is watching her sister in horror at what is in store for her. Elijah and Eleanor both had the vaccine, so they should be fine. It wasn't available back when Katie and Mackenzie were young enough to get their immunizations, so they missed out. I never considered taking them back to the doctor just for that, but now I wonder if I should have. I know there are worse things. I know she'll recover, But she just feels so bad.
Just the other day, Katie and I were doing a mother/daughter devotional together, and one of her questions to ask me was "What is the hardest thing about being a mom?" My answer was the feeling you get when your child is hurting, and you are powerless to do anything to change their situation. At two o'clock yesterday morning, whe I was up trying to get her comfortable enough to sleep, she asked me if this counted as one of those times when I felt that way. Definitely.