15 posts tagged “sick baby”

The Boy got sent home from school yesterday. Well, he would have been sent home, except that I accidentally left my phone off, and, for some odd reason, they didn't call my husband at work.

Anyway, he's at home today with his daddy, and he has a doctor's appointment at 2:45. After all, Dr W told me to call and/or bring him in if he still had a fever on Thursday, and, well, it's Thursday and he still has a fever. And a bad cough. And if he has the same cold I have, a sore throat, too. But I think my sore throat partially came from the constant vomiting, so there's really no telling. His appetite has also decreased considerably (he didn't even finish his banana this morning for breakfast, and he only had a little more than half a cup of his favorite macaroni and cheese for dinner last night), he has a bad cough, and he's not sleeping well. Oh, but his breathing isn't labored and he's still in (mostly) good spirits, so that's the bright side of things.

My poor little baby.

He woke up around 3AM and didn't want to go back to bed right away. I nursed him, let him drink some milk from his sippy cup (because, sadly, I'm only making so much milk now - but with both of us fighting the same cold, a little bit is better than nothing), gave him some Tylenol, nursed him some more, changed his diaper, and held him as I tried to coax him back to sleep. I thought I had him, but as soon as I crawled back into my own bed, he announced he wasn't ready for bed. So I brought him into the family room, reclined onto the couch, and tried to get him to sleep again. He was restless, so I let him walk around a bit before bringing him back into his room to go to sleep. It's impossible to be upset with a little boy who is just so excited to be alive, even at 4 in the morning. Finally, around 4:30, he fell asleep and (mostly) stayed asleep. He was still out when I left just after 7 this morning.

Needless to say, I'm feeling a bit tired.

I've taken myself off of Weight Watchers this week. After all, how do you count points when you aren't keeping most of what you've eaten in your stomach? When I'm better, I'll go back on it. It's not terrible, after all; it just requires keeping a list. And I love to keep lists.

There's a brushfire somewhere near my house (though not close enough for any danger), and probably a few more on the way to work. The air quality outside is terrible. As soon as I reached the Disney area on the freeway, the smoke was unbearable. And now all I can smell is smoke. It's awful. For this reason, I'm so thankful The Boy is staying home today. I really don't want him outside exposed to this if it can be helped at all.

The Boy enjoys watching Chris play Mario Kart on the Wii. I think he likes the pretty colors and the graphics. It works well, I think; Chris can play and The Boy will (mostly) watch. Last night they were watching something on G4 together, which was pretty cute. Chris was sitting on the floor, and The Boy was in front of him, drinking from his sippy cup, both of them engrossed in whatever was on the screen. If I thought I had time to take a picture of them together, I would have. It was completely priceless.

I'm a little annoyed today at work. See, a big part of what I do is provide reporting on a weekly basis on product performance. Twice a year, there's a group in my department that asks for information on specific items, which normally isn't a big deal - except that (1) they wait until the very last moment to ask for the information with every expectation of having it immediately, (2) they're asking for a lot of information that's already in the reports (with commentary) that I send out each week, and (3) 30% of the items on which they want information either don't exist, have not been delivered, or have less than a month's sales data. And, sadly, my crystal ball isn't working right now, so I can't tell you how these items will perform this year. If I could do that, I'd let my friends know the winning lottery numbers, too, and, well, as none of my friends have won the lottery, clearly I can't do it.

[sigh]

I dropped off a very unhappy little boy this morning. In fact, as soon as we got into the classroom, he started to scream in terror and cling to me for dear life. He settled down a bit while I was signing the roster sheet (still holding him, mind you), only to freak out again when one of the teachers reached out to take him from me.

I have my suspicions of the cause of this, aside from the common separation anxiety. Lack of Mommy-time combined with a little cold and generally not feeling too great equals an unhappy baby.

Yesterday, I left work early after vomiting in the bathroom. Thankfully, I made it to the bathroom in order to do it. I cleared off my desk, told my boss I just threw up and needed to go home, and rushed home to my bed (which is not too far from the bathroom, thankfully). I don't know how many times I puked; I just know it wasn't a good scene.

I took The Boy to the doctor yesterday afternoon, and Dr W took a look at me, too. The Boy and I both have colds, and he's getting over the stomach bug that he just gave me. Oh joy, joy, joy. After the appointment, I drove home, called my husband to come out of the house and collect The Boy from my car, and rushed to the bathroom before going to bed. So The Boy did not have any Mommy-time last night (and the fact that I heard my husband tell him "Mommy doesn't want you in there" probably didn't help matters much).

We were fine this morning at the house. He woke up (on his own - I was in no rush to get out of bed this morning), and we cuddled and chatted for a little while before I changed his diaper (poopy - no diarrhea - but still a bad diaper rash) and dressed him in his clothes for school. Before breakfast, we played for a bit (his new favorite toy is an empty paper towel tube), I tried to teach him the word "egg", and he took out all his books from his bookcase. (I was in no shape to try and stop him.) Then, after a hearty breakfast of yogurt, Pirate Booty (because he has suddenly decided not to eat bananas), and a few sips of milk, we piled into the car and were on our way.

He was in such good spirits during the ride over. He pointed out the window and chatted about the things he saw (none of which I, of course, understood), and was otherwise in a great mood. He protested when I tried to clean his face before taking him out of the car, but even when we were on our way to the classroom, he seemed perfectly content.

But the moment we set foot into the room, he burst into tears. I felt so bad.

Even worse is that I'll need to stay late tonight to finish up month-end reporting. I only hope he'll forgive me in the morning!

The Boy is finally down for a nap, though at this late hour, he might be out for longer than just a nap. The poor thing was up late last night vomiting, and when he woke up this morning, it was because of diarrhea. Amazingly enough, he's been in good spirits and playful all day, pausing just long enough to vacate his bowels before launching full-force into play.

So, remember how I was all excited yesterday because I was caught up on laundry and was able to skip a day? Yeah... I'm never making a statement like that again. I'm now running my fourth load of laundry with #5 in the queue. On the plus side, included in the laundry are bed sheets (yes, I changed my bed sheets this week, per my Month of Good), so it's not a total loss.

Yesterday, I did not do laundry, nor did I get a chance to floss (let alone brush my teeth last night). I didn't Swiffer the kitchen floor, either, or clear off countertops. In fact, I didn't do anything I was "supposed to do" last night, and I'm more than okay with that. My little boy was sick and needed me, and at the end of the day, I still know where my priorities lie.

So, I wasn't "good" yesterday by the standards set forth in My List. But I was good where it counts, and I feel really good about that!

My little boy has bronchiolitis. Since it is a mild case (thankfully) and neither my husband nor I suffer from asthma nor nasal allergies, the only treatment my doctor could offer is lots of fluids, lots of rest, and lots of cuddling.

That's the good news.

The bad news is that he will be out of commission (translation: out of school) for the rest of the week because he's still contagious to other kids, though it's highly likely that he picked up the bug from school, anyway.

[sigh]

So, now I have to monitor his breathing to make sure he doesn't take more than 60 breaths per minute, and keep an eye on his temperature to make sure it doesn't suddenly spike. Oh, and if he develops a bluish tinge anywhere near his nostrils or mouth, that's a bad thing, too, and he will need immediate care - as in hospitalization.

"But don't worry," Dr. W reassured me this afternoon. "That's only in extreme cases, and I think Baby C will have this bug completely kicked in 7 to 10 days." And since this is Day 4 of The Cough, Baby C ought to be well enough to go to school on Monday. That's what his doctor's note says, anyway.

My only comfort is knowing that he shouldn't have to miss a lot of school in a few years (when it really counts) because he ought to have a really strong immune system.

That, and God wouldn't let anything truly bad happen to my little baby, not this soon after losing Mom. God's got a sick sense of humor, it's true, but I don't think he's cruel.

At least it's the first one of the year, and we're already halfway through the second month.

Baby C isn't feeling well. I think that goes without saying, considering that his school had to call me. Twice.

The first time, his teacher called to let me know that he had a bad cough (which I already knew), and his breathing was getting a bit more labored. I just bought the little PediaCare humidifier for his room, so I told her that we would use it tonight to see if will clear up his congestion, and tomorrow morning we'd see how he feels.

That was fine. "I'll see you tomorrow," she said, and that was it. I called the doctor's office to see if there was anything available for tomorrow in the late afternoon, and the receptionist said to call first thing in the morning. Mental note made - check.

Then, about two hours later, I got another call, this time from someone I don't normally see.

Baby C has an elevated temperature (more than 100 degrees), a bad cough, and, oh, he just threw up.

[sigh]

So, I get back on the phone with the doctor's office and try to schedule something first thing in the morning. Baby C is a wee one, after all, and vomiting at his age gets you to the front of the line. (I discovered that the first time he had a stomach bug. Not cool that he covered my hoodie with vomit, but it did get us an immediate visit with the doctor.) J, the office manager, will call me before she leaves tonight and let me know what she can do as far as getting him seen. In the meantime, I just have to wait it out.

*     *     *     *     *

Nurse A just returned my call, and as suspected, there's not a whole lot that can be done about the vomiting. (He's had stomach bugs before, so I kind of knew that.) The coughing combined with the labored breathing, on the other hand, is enough cause for concern that she recommended taking him to the ER this evening if it sounds (or looks) like he's gasping for air. I just called Chris to let him know what Nurse A said, and he told me that Baby C doesn't sound like he's having a whole lot of trouble breathing; he's just got a bad cough.

As for me, I would like nothing more than to rush home and take care of the baby. Sadly, there's not a whole lot that I would be able to do at home that Chris can't do, and as today is Tuesday, I have to wait for Finance to hurry up and finish the report I desperately need. It doesn't look like it will be finished in the next few minutes, so it looks like I'll be here for a while before I can go home and see for myself how my little one is doing. This morning, he was still playful and cheery. I can only wonder what his disposition will be when I get home.

Tom Petty's right. The waiting is the hardest part.

Baby C is sick, or, at the very least, not feeling well. He let out a cry at midnight and, when Chris went into the nursery to pick up and comfort the baby, threw up on his dad's shoulder.

Not fun.

He then proceeded to throw up every 15-45 minutes thereafter, until around 4 am. Then it was just once per hour for the next four hours. I think he's starting to hold down most of his food, so here's hoping I've seen the end of the vomit for a while.

I got him to sleep for about 15 minutes before he woke up. I feel so bad when he wakes up and doesn't see me right away. He looks panicked, almost desperate, then suddenly relieved when he sees me.

So, he's on a liquid diet today. Tomorrow, I'm hoping he'll be well enough to go to school, or, at least, start up on solids again.

And now we just did an explosive diarrhea in Mommy's lap. He, at least, seems to be feeling better.

Oh joy, thy name is Motherhood.

First of all, a big thanks and huge hugs to all of you who were concerned for little Baby C. I really appreciate all the well-wishes, especially coming from those who have weathered this sort of thing before (and watched their children live to tell the tale!).

He is doing much, much better, and is even back in school today! I was worried sick about him on Friday, but I left him in capable hands (my husband stayed home with him) while I was at work, so I knew he would be okay. As it was, Chris said that if he didn't see the baby on Thursday night and know he was sick, by the way Baby C was behaving, you never would have known he vomited six times the day before.

Thursday night, when I brought him home, he was too tired to fight being placed in his crib, and he fell asleep right away. He even stayed asleep Friday morning after I placed him in his crib while I got ready for work. That's how I knew he was still under the weather - he never stays asleep for long in his crib. But by the time I got home from work, he was almost back to his usual rebellious self. By Saturday night, he was back at 100%.

So, many thanks again for all the well wishes. We've both survived.

And it only reaffirms precisely why I don't wear anything that needs to be dry-cleaned anymore.

I got a call this afternoon from Baby C's school. He had thrown up twice and had a rash all over, so could I please pick him up?

So, I ran into my director's office, told her I needed to leave to get the baby because he's vomiting, then dashed to daycare. On my way there, the school called two more times. Apparently, he was still vomiting and was now starting to shake.

Meanwhile, when I called the doctor, he didn't have any openings left for the day. I spoke to his nurse, though, who assured me that it sounded like Baby C had a little stomach bug that would likely go away. But they could see him in the morning.

I was actually okay with this, until I saw the baby. He was listless, with absolutely no sparkle in his eye, and he was cranky and just not himself. So, I figured I would still bring him to the doctor, let the nurse take a look at him, and if she recommended taking him to the emergency room, well, the hospital is right there, anyway.

Between the car and the office, Baby C threw up on me. Twice. The nurse took one look at him and ushered us into a room right away, and Dr. W saw him shortly thereafter. And while Dr. W was with us, Baby C threw up again (on me, no less). Of course, as soon as he threw up again, he started to feel better.

And the shaking? It's because he has a fever and is cold. So now he's bundled up, slowly refilling his tummy with milk, and on the road to recovery. For the next 72 hours (just long enough for the weekend), I can expect Baby C to be clingy, to be a little cranky, and - most exciting of all - to have runny stools.

I can't begin to imagine how excited my husband is to be going to ScreamFest this weekend.

Baby C had been warm to the touch for several days, but he hadn't been overly fussy and was still willing to play. Besides, the thermometer didn't show an elevated temperature until Friday evening: 100.5, the magic number at which to give him some Tylenol and call the doctor. But since it was Friday night, I gave him the Tylenol and vowed to call the doctor Saturday if the fever persisted.

Come Saturday morning, my little boy is feeling fine. He's still a little warm, but no longer feverish, and he's certainly playful. So playful, in fact, that he patiently let me go through Costco coupons while Chris was in the shower. We read his dinosaur board book a few times, he chewed on the pages, and it started out as a great morning.

Then, as if someone flipped a switch, Baby C was suddenly inconsolable. His temperature was up again (100.8), so I called his doctor and reported his behavior. Dr W didn't seem overly concerned about the baby since Baby C was, after all, still playing in between his crying fits. But, oh, those crying fits were awful.

Once Chris came back from running errands, the baby was fine again. I got him dressed in one of the outfits our friends Doug and Bekki bought for him, and we headed over to their house for the afternoon. He was in good spirits and even let me put him down in his play pen with some toys for a while. (I created my Mii on their Nintendo Wii and "bowled". Loved it. I told Chris that I may need to get Baby C one for his first birthday.)

Then, as more people arrived and the day turned to night, Baby C got cranky. Really cranky. Much crankier than usual, in fact. Oddly, the only thing that seemed to calm him was a diaper change, but as soon as that was over, he went right back to his unusually cranky self. At first, I thought he was really sick, but his temperature wasn't elevated, so this behavior was just a mystery.

He fell asleep in the car and remained fairly calm for the rest of the evening. He fussed while I was in the shower but calmed down when Chris brought him into the bathroom to look at his reflection and listen to the bathroom fan and running shower. He would fuss a bit to let me know he was hungry, but as soon as I offered to nurse, he settled down immediately. In fact, he was even calm enough to watch UK beat Louisville for the first time in 4 years, and he and Chris even played a bit before Chris went to sleep.

Sunday morning, Baby C was in good spirits. He was playful, jovial, and his usual self. I was even able to go to the grocery store and cook breakfast - a small miracle in itself. He fussed a bit to let me know he was hungry, I fed him, he went to sleep, and I left him wth Chris so I could run another errand. All was well.

But by the afternoon, it became quite apparent all was really not well. No, his temperature didn't go up again, but he started fussing a whole lot more, and nothing - not even food - could console him. (And this is a boy who loves to eat.) I struggled a bit to get him dressed so that we could go to another friend's house for his birthday, and he settled down for a little while, but as soon as we got on the road, the crying started again.

[sigh]

Off and on this went. Baby C played with A, our friends' little boy (or, rather, stared at A while A played around him) and was perfectly fine for most of the visit. He would fuss a little, I would feed him, and things were well again. Or, he'd fuss, I'd change him, and he'd be happy. Until it was time for dinner, and my sleepy and slightly overheated (as our friends' house is a bit warmer than ours) little boy wanted nothing more than to be held, constantly moving, and under the ceiling fan.

Chris and I hurried through dinner, then rushed to thank our hosts and apologize for cutting our visit so abruptly. Baby C was sleeping before we got into the car and remained blissfully asleep for a few minutes after we got home. At this point, I already told Chris that I was going to take the day off from work and take Baby C to the doctor the next day. My little boy was inconsoleable, and nothing would cheer him. It was awful.

So, the next morning, I checked my work e-mail for any pressing issues, called my boss (who was home sick) to let her know I was out, called my teammate to ask her to handle the one Monday Must-Do I had on my plate, then called the doctor to see when Baby C could come in (we were able to get an 11:30 appointment).

After seeing Dr W, I got good new and bad news. The good news? Baby C's lungs are clear (no fluids), his throat looks good (despite the cough caused by post-nasal drip), his ears are healthy (yay!), his tummy is soft (no abdominal problems), and he's doing very well sitting up and standing (with support), too. He also gained a pound in four weeks, which is good because it means he's still eating well. In short, he's healthy and doing just fine developmentally.

The bad news? He's teething, and there's really not a whole lot I can do to help him out on that end. I can cuddle him and hug him and try to keep him distracted. I can nurse him as much as he'd like to nurse and keep him well-hydrated. I can also surround him with teething toys and give him an occasional dose of Tylenol or Motrin as needed. It may take several weeks for his first teeth to appear, but no doubt about it, Baby C is teething, and this will only get worse before it gets better. And the most awful news of all: I can look forward to many months of this as more teeth start to come in.

Oh, Joy, thy name is Motherhood.

I know teething is a part of childhood, and I'm well aware that every mom has to go through this. The toughest part is knowing how uncomfortable he is and knowing there's not much I can do to help him through this process, either. And then to know that it will get worse as the teeth come close to erupting?

I would give anything to suffer whatever pain he's going through and is about to face so that he doesn't need to.

Oh, my poor baby. My poor, poor Baby C.

This morning, Baby C is not a happy baby. He's sleepy, hungry, and congested, which is not a good combination. Any attempts to alleviate some congestion (namely, the giant green bulb aspirator) have been met with screams of terror. Any attempts to alleviate the hunger are futile, as he detaches fairly quickly with a cry of frustration that seems to say, "Mom, I can't breathe!" And all this means sleep is a far, distant dream.

For both of us.