a tale of woe and sadness

So, the pox is real. Well, there’s a real virus in my baby. The jury’s still out on whether or not the unidentifiable spots have anything to do with the unidentified illness, but there is an illness now.

Saturday night after I laid Baby Guy down, we noticed that he was pretty restless and doing a lot of coughing in his sleep. Then, at midnight, I woke up to the sound of his crying. I stumbled to the kitchen to get his bottle, but by the time I made it back to his room, he was silent again. I decided to feed him anyway to avoid another wake up (which would almost have certainly been necessary the moment I fell back asleep). When I went to pick him up he was putting off heat like a furnace and let out one of the saddest most pathetic croakiest cries I’ve ever heard. He just lay there as I checked his temperature (which never happens…usually you’d think I was administering a rabies shot to his armpit during this procedure).

To add to the drama of the situation, as well as my general feeling of panic, the thermometer started flashing red. Apparently that’s a nifty feature of the model we purchased and I just hadn’t witnessed it yet because Baby Guy had really never had a fever before. It was especially exciting because it was the only light in the room. So, I woke up my husband and set him on the task of locating the baby Tylenol. I gave the little one his bottle, and after he drank an ounce of it, he started throwing up. After two rounds of that and a report of a failed search for the medicine, we decided that we’d just take baby in to be seen.

Three more bouts of vomiting later, we were all loaded up and ready to go. The only thing I really remember us talking about on the way was how we’d probably get some nice remarks about how we’re overreactive first-time parents. We decided that we were okay with that and proceeded.

In the end, we were sent on our way with the vague diagnosis of “a virus” with a rash that is “not concerning,” and were left to our own devices to get Baby Guy to take medicine, since he did not oblige the ER nurse by accepting a new substance into his mouth (surprise!). After a 2 am stop at a 24 hour Walgreens to grab some Pedialyte, where my husband had to wait in line behind an employee of Walgreens who jumped in front of him to buy a soda, we made it home, fed Baby Guy, got him to take some fever reducer, and put him and ourselves to bed.

Take it from me, a sick baby does not joke around. Yesterday he took about 800 naps, all of them 29 minutes long (or less). Between those naps, he made a semi constant pathetic whining sound, and alternated that noise with sweet snuggles so that we would not lose our minds altogether. He also went back to flatly refusing any morsels of solid food, not even falling prey to my repeated temptations with his favorite decadent treat, frozen banana puree. Doesn’t he know that popsicles will cure just about anything?!

 

Today is better, though he’s still not back to normal. I was able to coax him into gnawing on some frozen peach puree this morning, and he’s back to squealing and squawking conversationally for about 45 minutes after his naps until he reverts to the constant whiny noise of sadness. His spots are fading, and after a mere 5 wake-ups last night, I am feeling refreshed and ready for a new week.

Just kidding.

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About mrsmartin

I love to camp, hike, read, take pictures, spend time with friends and family, play word games, and learn stuff about all kinds of different things. I'm a Seventh-day Adventist Christian. I'm a vegetarian teetotaler. I used to be a teacher and now I'm a wife and a mom.
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One Response to a tale of woe and sadness

  1. Jeri Martin says:

    I’ve been praying that he feels better soon!

    Like

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