Sick Kid

8484_tired_mom_taking_care_of_crying_baby_in_cribIn Parentland, many times, when it rains, it pours. You have those days you get the bodily function trifecta, which includes getting spit up on, peed on and pooped on within minutes of each other. If you’re really lucky, the wipes are nowhere to be found during said fluid storm.

We had a pretty gnarly trio of travesties over the weekend, the first two being nothing in comparison to the third, but still. Here goes: First, the monkey mobile broke. I blame myself for letting Ollie yank the life out of it while I was putting him down for a nap. The boy loves his monkeys, what can I say? Nothing a little plastic welder can’t handle. Then, the overstuffed Diaper Genie wouldn’t close after I changed out the liner. Diaper Genie fails are the worst. Daddy had to dig around with a screwdriver to fix it, it was so bad. And because these things happen in threes, Ollie, my little butter bean, got sick. He’s had mild runny noses, insignificant coughs and a drooly mouth due to teething, but this was different. This was genuine, bona fide sick sick. I knew it was a matter of time, and my sitter even warned me.

She wasn’t trying to freak us out. Contrarily, this childcare vet was trying to relay the obvious: He’s going to get sick sick, it’s a matter of time, he’s not the first and you’ll all get through it.

Well, our time came last night. I had Ollie all snuggled up in his new fleece footie jammies. One with a cyclopes Sully monster knock-off appliqué on it. Something about babies in footie p.j.s that kills me every time. I am fully aware they now make these for adults and am disturbed to no end by it, but babies and toddlers? Instant warm-fuzzies.

Anyway, long story short (I know, too late), he was just the cutest thing. I laid him down for the night like usual. A little after midnight, he was up. Sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night and babbles himself to sleep. Sometimes I actually get up with him to change his diapers if they need it. Last night, it was a lot of tears (the kind of crying where the face takes on a tomato-colored complexion), severe fussiness, a runny nose and an old lady cough. I was up and down with him a handful of times. Around 3 a.m., I fed him a bottle and a half. He was like a bottomless pit. The next time, J held him while he fell asleep in his arms. I threw in the towel around 6:15 a.m., got up with him, fed him breakfast and some bottle while reading from “Baby 411.” All signs pointed to “wait it out.” No fever, no vomiting, he wasn’t refusing food, turning blue or struggling to breathe.

As he fell asleep in my arms, exhausted from little sleep, I laid him down for a morning rest. He was exhausted, I was worn out, and daddy, now halfway to work, was undoubtedly a little drained. But we survived and baby was taking his much-needed nap with his blankie over his head like it always is.

He came around after his nap, seemed content, so I proceeded to take him to the sitter. The bulb syringe, which we don’t use, but  keep around, offered him a lot of comfort to hold and chew on, so I let him enjoy it. I crossed my fingers the worse was over, but he started bawling with those BIG boy tears once I passed him off to the sitter. She chalked it up to a cold, teething and maybe a little separation anxiety. She wanted me to go to work and not to worry. I told her not to hesitate to call me if he was inconsolable. I know it’s all symptomatic of being a new mom, but I was worried.

I called the pediatrician, who, like the book and my sitter, calmed my fears. The general attitude is, if your kid is running a high fever, isn’t eating, is struggling to breathe, etc., get medial help. But as new parents, when an otherwise jovial and energetic baby is bawling and inconsolable, it’s a cause for concern.

Tonight, I put the repaired mobile back up and put Ollie to bed pretty early. He was pooped.

So, yeah, we all made it through Day 1 of baby’s first real illness. What a day.

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