Pneumonia.

Clair's got pneumonia.

I took her back to the doctor yesterday and after a chest X-ray, that was the diagnosis. It is likely a result of an extended cold, exacerbated by her asthma. I'm relieved to know what it is, but I'm also sad for her. Pneumonia?! Poor little baby!

She's now on two different steroids, an antibiotic and a steady stream of ibuprofen. She's still not eating, barely drinking, and waking up many, many times throughout the night because of powerful coughing, gagging and choking. The choking is scary for her -- and for us, too.

I wanted so badly to stay home with her and make sure she had one-on-one attention today -- lots of holding and cuddling, and a laser-focus on getting her meds in her at the right time, in the right way. But I have meetings I can't reschedule, especially since I missed most of yesterday at the doctor with her, so Lester is home. Thank God for him (really and truly) for being the kind of father who wants to stay home with his sick, clingy and irritable baby. And thank God he has the kind of job that he can stay home.

But I wouldn't be honest if I didn't admit to feeling a little bit bitter that I have to go to $@#$&*! meetings when my baby daughter is home, miserable with pneumonia.

I am also not going to Atlanta this weekend to visit my girlfriend and her baby daughter. I don't think it's a good idea for Clair, even if by Friday she is starting to feel much better, as Dr. Bodnar predicts.

I'll just hold on to the tickets and those vacation days and use them another time. I have too much work to do anyway to go on a long weekend trip. Bleh.

Ugh. In the epic Grangerford/Shepherdson battle commonly known as "work-life balance," work is kicking the crap out of life and life is whining like a little bee-yotch.