After I had Andy, I joined a new mom's group organized by INOVA Faifax Hospital. It was held at a local church and it was moderated by a nurse who answered basic questions and assured us new moms that we could handle our new jobs as mothers. After a bit, the group dwindled as those with older babies (those with four month olds, which seemed really old compared to my six week old) left to start a playgroup. My group left a few months later for babies born November through February and if the group still meets, I'm sure that's still happening.
As such, I'm on two online message boards, one for the group of older moms and one for my specific playgroup. I'm much closer to the women I see regularly, but I keep tabs on the other group and usually get a lot from their posts. Today, though, I learned that one of the little girls in the other playgroup died. That's right. Died. She was 26 months old. The details are sketchy, but it had something to do with a GI infection. I didn't know the little girl or her mother. The mere fact of our paths crossing or nearly crossing around here for the past few years and with similar experiences makes me feel like I know them. I hate to be all melodramatic (despite what you've heard, it's not my strong suit), I just don't get it. First my friend Karen, now Joey. It is all just so, so sad. Andy has been a pill this week (he still refuses to sleep at night), but I think I need to sneak into his room and give him a kiss.
I feel the same way. Jack got lots of extra hugs last night.
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