Our sweet little twins officially have their first cold. They are grumpy, not sleeping great, and don't understand why they feel less than stellar. I want so badly to make them feel better, but there is little I can do.
Although an eventual cold was inevitable, it still breaks my heart a little. Hearing their labored breathing brings back all too recent memories of a time when they couldn't breathe on their own. The rattling I hear when they try to sleep or eat is too reminiscent of the respirator and cannula they required after their birth.
As with any baby, all they want when they feel poopy is to be cuddled and comforted. Unfortunately, it's difficult to properly cuddle more than one of the them at a time. I feel like I am constantly choosing a baby to cater too, yet not giving my full attention to either. Juggling sick multiples is a challenge, and we are working to find our footing in this new territory.
Seeing my precious ones so unhappy has totally reinforced my germ-phobia. Up until this past weekend, I have been a germ drill sargent. I have strictly enforced rules regarding hand washing and kid visitors, and I have accordingly encountered more than a few snide remarks. Now I can see that protecting my little ones is totally worth any ire directed my way. So we're breaking out the hand sanitizer and reinstating the "please don't let your kids touch the babies" rule (per our pulmonologist's recommendation), and hoping for healthy babies soon.