Today, I noticed you trying to touch the dust motes in the sunbeams in our bedroom. I thought that you were hallucinating as you have a fever, but your dad figured it out. Ironically, he's usually Mr Worst Case Scenario and I am Mary Poppins.
In respect your care, I am easy to worry, and quick to come to conclusions. Perhaps because I medical, I know too much of what is possible. Part of it is certainly connected to depression, postpartum to be specific, as I just sometimes feel everything is insurmountable.
As a special treat, we are sitting together as a family watching Tintin. We really have not been exposing you to TV, but we feel that you earned a little zoning out. Perhaps we do as well.
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