Allison is in the hospital.
She has RSV. She is congested and struggling to breathe, needing oxygen, breathing treatments, medicine, and lots of love. She cries a lot because she isn't allowed to eat (too much mucus), and she is most uncomfortable.
Allie needs her momma.
Grace is at home.
Grace's baby sister, the one she waited for for so long, is very sick. Her sister is in the hospital, and she isn't allowed to visit.
Grace has a bad cold (probably caused by RSV), so she's a little more tired, a little more whiny, and a little less patient than normal. She is worried and worn out and misses her mother and sister.
Grace needs her momma.
There is only one momma. Yesterday, I stayed with Allie, needing to talk with the doctor and get the prognosis and understand the treatment.
But Grace woke up four times during the night, hysterical. She cried and cried, I miss my momma. I want my momma.
Dad wasn't the right guy. Aunt Amanda wouldn't do. She needed comfort and consoling from her mother.
In her existence, Allie has known primarily one person. My smell, my heartbeat, my voice. She cries and cries, too. She needs comfort and consoling from her mother.
This evening, I'm going to go home to Gracie. My heart aches to think that I have to leave my baby, my tiny, 7-week-0ld infant, while she is so sick.
But I have to.
I can't be in two places at once.
They both need me.
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