Small But Loved (Age-Regression)

Chapter Twenty-Three: Cold Feet

Theo POV:

Hazel is working from home today while I watch Mila. It's my first day off of work in a while and I'm spending it taking my daughter to the doctors. She's been feeling a little ill, so I've made an appointment with her doctor. Most would assume Mila would attend a normal doctors office, but that isn't the case.

Since she's so small, she has to attend a pediatric doctor. Which is fine by me. "Come on, ladybug. Let's go." I coo while lifting her up in my arms. She whines and lays her head down on my shoulder. My poor baby is trying to be big since her doctor knows her real age, but she's struggling. Especially because she doesn't feel good.

I carry her into the office while she rests on my shoulder. Once she's checked in, I move to sit down on a chair. Mila seems content to lay on my shoulder and rest. Her nose is running onto the blue fabric of my shirt, though. Since Mila wanted to be Big today, she's wearing underwear instead of a diaper, so I don't have the diaper bag.

No diaper bag means no baby wipes to wipe her nose with. A younger woman with an infant sits next to me. I adjust Mila onto my other shoulder and ask, "Can I use one of your baby wipes? My daughters nose is running and I don't have the diaper bag."

She gives me a kind smile and nods, reaching under her chair to grab the diaper bag. I'm handed a wet wipe and I thank her. "Here, ladybug. Can you wipe your nose for me?"

Mila shakes her head at me, so I wipe her nose for her. This morning when she woke up, it sounded like she was hacking up a lung. She ended up laying in Hazel and I's bed until my wife had to go to work.

"Mila Thomas!" A nurse shouts from a doorway, startling me from my thoughts. I stand up and carry her into the hallway to be weighed.

"I have to put you down, ladybug. Just for a second." I whisper in her ear. Mila nods and I set her down on the scale. Her tiny body wobbles to the side while she tries to put on a brave face. I can tell that she just wants to slip, but she won't.

"Let's see. Thirty-four pounds. A pound of weight loss." The female nurse hums, marks something on Mila's chart, then guides us into the room.

"Can you tell me what brings you two in today?" She comments while wrapping a blood pressure cuff around my baby's tiny arm.

"She hasn't been feeling all that well for the past couple days. No fever, but she does have a cough and a horrible runny nose." I explain while bouncing Mila on my knee. It's a habit that she clearly doesn't enjoy in the moment.

"Dad..." She whines, pushing out of my lap to sit in the chair beside mine. I give her a soft smile.

"Alrighty then. The doctor will be in shortly." The nurse leaves and we wait in silence. Mila keeps sniffling and wiping her nose on the arm of her shirt. Even when she isn't Little, she does Little things.

Standing up, I grab the tissue box and hand it to her. "I don't need that, Dad." Her voice is rough and scratchy sounding. The complete opposite of her usually sweet, high pitched voice.

"Take it anyways. You never know." Right as I finish my sentence, the doctor walks in. He's an older guy, but an amazing doctor. He's always been really sweet to Mila and understanding of her situation.

"Hello, Miss Mila. It's nice to see you again. I just wish you didn't have to be sick to see me." He gives her a kind smile while Mila sits there miserably. Her shoulders are slumped and her pink lips are poked out in a pout.

"Let's get to it then. I'm going to listen to your heart and lungs. Her oxygen levels were good, so I'm not concerned about that." The doctor explains as he rolls closer to my daughter. He presses his stethoscope against her chest and prompts her to breathe in and out.

"Heart and lungs sound good. Let me feel your neck real quick." He presses his fingers to both sides of her neck, then nods.

"And let me take a look in your mouth. Open wide for me." A light is shone in Mila's mouth and a look of clarity crosses his face while he nods.

"I think I know what's wrong. I'm going to order some blood work, but it looks like Mila has tonsillitis. Her tonsils are swollen. I just want to rule anything else out before I give her some antibiotics. Have you and your wife spoke about having her tonsils out?"

I shake my head and look over at my miserable little girl. "I would have to speak to Hazel when we get home. Mila and hospitals just don't mix."

"It would be good to talk about it. Infections like this are serious to Mila because of her size. My professional recommendation would be to have them removed."

A weary sigh escapes me and I nod. "Let me get a nurse in here to draw her blood, and I'll be back in with the results."

The doctor exits the room and Mila climbs her way back into my lap. She cries softly into my shirt while sucking snot back up her nose. It's gross and I hate it, but I don't say anything.

"I want Mom."

"I know, love. We'll go home and see her later." My words do nothing to appease my upset child. She practically burrows herself into my chest and sobs uncontrollably.

It's an awkward situation for the nurse to witness when she comes back into the room carrying a cart with different needles and vials. "I'm here to draw some blood. Can you confirm her name and date of birth?"

I tell her everything she needs to know, then hold Mila securely in my lap while the lady gets all her items ready. "I don't want a needle." She cries. The sound is raspy and desperate.

Mila fights me when I pull her arm out of her shirt sleeve. The nurse struggles to find a vein in her arm, but finally finds one. As soon as she sticks the butterfly needle in her arm, Mila screeches loudly. "Shhh. I got you." I coo.

***

I pull the car into the driveway and shut off the engine. The doctor was right, Mila has tonsillitis. She was given some antibiotics to take by mouth. Which is going to be difficult on us when she's in her headspace.

Stepping out, I get a sleeping Mila out of her carseat, then step into the house. Hazel's in her office and Kai and West are nowhere in sight.

"Hey, babe." I say, stepping into Hazel's work space. It's messy, designs of pictures strung up everywhere. My wife looks up at me and smiles asking, "What did the doctor say?" 

"She has to tonsillitis. The doctor wants us to consider having her tonsils taken out."

Hazel's smile drops off her face and she sighs, rubbing her eyes with her pointer finger and thumb. "Alright, we'll talk about it tonight. For now, I just want to cuddle my baby. Bring her here."

I carefully transfer Mila over to her mothers arms and watch as they snuggle. Hazel lifts her shirt and her breast comes into view. I love it when she doesn't wear a bra. "Just a warning, she's been struggling with slipping."

"I missed you today, pea. Mama's here now." Hazel tries to get Mila to latch, but she's not opening her mouth. Her throat probably hurts too much to drink.

"The doctor said she lost one pound. It's not that big of a deal, but she can't lose more." I whisper quietly as to not disturb my sleeping baby.

"I can't make her eat when she doesn't want to. You know she's going through a faze of playing with her food." She shrugs and leans back in her leather office chair.

"If we have to, we can give her more sweets. As much as Mila would enjoy it, she can't survive off of breast milk." I laugh and Mila jumps, opening her mouth.

Hazel takes that opportunity to latch Mila on. Our girl suckles strongly, but isn't swallowing it. The milk just dribbles out of the sides of her mouth. "My poor girl." Hazel whispers.

"I'm going to go downstairs and get a late lunch started. What do you want?" I offer.

"Something light. Maybe sandwiches?"

"Sounds good to me. Love you."

"Love you too. See you soon, baby girl." Standing up, I give my wife and daughter a kiss, then leave to prepare the food. Mila won't eat this, so I make her some baby oatmeal. She probably won't eat anything at this point, but that's okay. We'll eventually get something in her. Even if it's icecream and popsicles.