While the hot husband is away for the NEXT THREE WEEKS, I will have the pleasure of sharing my bed with the wee Penelope, she of the champion snuggle-tude.
Her body is so small, tight, lean, warm, soft and fragile. Her tiny breathtakingly beautiful face with lips that ooze pink vitality framed by wispy locks the same exact color as her dad's is enough to make me cry when I see it sound asleep next to me.
Penelope has Fragile X, too. We found out about a month ago. PJ. My delicate, precious, emotional boiling pot of fierce love and affection has Fragile X.
We suspected. We waited. We knew but we didn't want to know.
The years she spent stuck to me. Her yelling, screaming years. Her ever present separation anxiety, her volatility. My worry, my husband's worry for this child's psyche... all explained yet again by the dangling little leg off of the X chromosome I gave her.
Before diagnosis, we made a pact to handle her more carefully, to give the smallest girl in the room, the most space we could. It's working. She's more at ease, we are reveling in her company. She deserves it; my lovely Penelope.
It's 11:05 in the morning and I can't believe it's another 10 hours till I get to have the littlest elf of all cozied up in her mama's arms under the covers in the safest place on earth.