A Tale of Two Thanksgivings

The second of my promised Thanksgiving posts. The holidays are such a time of reflection aren't they? They serve as markers to measure one year to the next. Last year at Thanksgiving, Penny was four months old. I did not yet know that she was allergic to milk. We woke up on Thanksgiving morning to her having an *euphemism alert* upset stomach, but didn't think it was bad enough to cancel our plans. I spent the whole day of Thanksgiving at Tray's grandparents' house changing Penny's diaper about once an hour and worrying that she was hot because her cheeks were so bright red. I kept trying to take clothes off of her, and then put them back on to make her comfortable. It was hot, but her cheeks were red because of the allergy. And of course, what was I eating at Thanksgiving? all those cheese and butter-filled casseroles. The more I fed her the worse she got, and the whole time I thought she had some kind of virus. I was very worried about her (I'm a worrier by nature), and I felt torn between trying to comfort her and keep her close with the demands of being around family that obviously wanted to pass her around and spend time with her too. Plus, she puked on her Aunt Marsha - who didn't mind at all, but still. (Penny used to throw up with every feeding, but I didn't know babies didn't just do that. I had no idea it was because of the milk allergy.) It was a stressful experience, but it didn't end there. Later in the afternoon, we travelled on to Troy to have Thanksgiving dinner there that night. The trip was ok as far as I recall (although she didn't sleep in the car as usual). But that night - that night!! - oh, my gosh, that night. It was awful. Up until that point she'd been reliably sleeping through the night for two months, but that night she woke up every thirty minutes and was miserable. We slept with her in the bed with us for the first time and I was awake all night with worry and caution because I was afraid to sleep with her. Meanwhile, her *ahem* bathroom troubles only got worse (because, again, I'd eaten what? cheesy casseroles with cheese for supper). The next morning she screamed, and I mean screamed for what felt like a solid hour trying to get her to go to sleep for a nap. The only way she finally slept at all was for Tray to hold her in his arms in the recliner. She didn't want anything to do with me. She was so miserable. After lunch (of cheesy leftovers), we headed home to Tallahassee. And I still get tears in my eyes thinking about it. You guys, I hope none of you ever have to go through anything like that. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. To hear your child scream unconsolably for two-plus hours and not be able to do anything at all. Nothing - beyond pulling over every twenty minutes or so to change another soiled diaper. And the screaming never stopped. I don't mean crying or protesting. I mean screaming in hysterical agony. Mercifully for her, she finally fell asleep about five minutes away from Tray's mom and dad's (one of the few times she has ever slept in the car). We were supposed to stop back by there on the way home, but if you had just been through what we had just been through I can promise you you would not have stopped either. You'd have had to have been a monster to even consider it. I got her home and called the after-hours doctor's office and things went from there. All in all though, it was the Thanksgiving from hell. We never attempted to drive with her all the way to Troy again until just last week because I couldn't bear to put her through that again. The difference from last year to this was phenomenal though. She's still not a great traveller, but it wasn't bad. She slept fine in her pack and play at my mom's and the big meal at Tray's grandparents' house was so, so, much better. What a difference a year makes!

So, anyway, here's a picture from this weekend when we went down to the creek. She's holding Tray's fly-fishing rod.