Morning comes fresh and new.

Pinky purpley oranges seep in through my window and kiss the sheets with light.

A small breeze flows in and out, the wind taking its first deep breaths for the day.

Two bodies lie with me, intertwined in bedclothes and each other.

The boy’s face is relaxed and round.

He sleeps heavily, in anticipation for the day of running, jumping and playing that will fill up his hours.

He reserves his energy for the constant babbling -  questions and statements that will give me pause, make me laugh and leave me frustrated.

His lips upturned with dreams that I imagine are filled with diggers and trains and racing cars (and maybe a teaparty or two with his sisters).

I stroke his blonde bristly spikes and think about how lucky I am to have this second chance with a son.

The girl is never restful in sleep, she tosses and turns and cries out most nights.

At this stage of the month, her slumber is fitful and her skin takes on the pale glow of the not quite healthy and the not quite healed.

Her last few days have been full of tears and aches and pains that I cannot see and somehow, cannot soothe.

She looks small in the oversized bed, her too big nightie swirling about her in pinks and greens and tiny white flowers.

It coils around her body like her curls that encompass her face, fully and softly.

I touch  her cool cheek and think about how lucky I am that we have modern medicine to help, else her future not be as bright as it is.

My usual sleeping partner is long gone, his leave a dim memory in the early morning darkness. My words familiar, yet distant, with callings of driving safely and love you’s.

I am still tired and I know this day will be long.

All my days in the last week before infusion day are but if I am to make the most of it, I have to rise early and wash and clean and prepare, so I can be at her disposal.

The ebb and flow of  tending to a well child and one who is not can be exhausting.

It just seems it has to be this way for now, three weeks of great and one week of terrible.

There are talks of higher or more frequent doses to  even things out

but in this week, before the IVIG, I am most definitely my daughter’s keeper.