Last Monday, Isaac starting coughing. Not just little sputters but deep, phlegmy type coughs. We kept him home and quiet on Tuesday, and we went about normal business on Wednesday, which involved daycare for him. I explained that he hadn't been feeling stellar upon dropoff...which was apparently the emerging trend at the center as several kids were out. By 2, I learned he had a low-grade fever, wasn't really eating, and although he was trying to play, just wasn't doing well. I called the pediatrician and got him an appointment for Thursday morning, hoping for the best. Thursday night was spent relaxing on the couch, watching Mickey Mouse.
When I woke him up in the morning to go to the Dr., it was apparent that my baby was sick, sick, sick. He had a fever, and was obviously miserable. He laid on the couch and then slept the entire way to his appointment. The pediatrician sent us away with a prescription for amoxocillin to treat a bacterial infection in his lungs. Clearly, he was not going to daycare any time soon.
It turns out that anytime soon would be a full week. Friday presented worse than the early days, in that Isaac woke up in tears, with a fever, and what I am guessing was a headache and sore throat, and most likely a sore chest from a night of coughing fitfully. He laid on the couch, demanding that I sit next to him without touching him for about 2 hours, crying and moaning before his tylenol and medicine really kicked in. It was horrible. He wanted to cuddle most of the day. The nights were hard, with Isaac not sleeping for more than 2 hours before waking up in a coughing fit. By Sunday, I saw some improvement in him....and some deterioration in my own health.
Inevitably, I caught what my baby had. I was not about to not wipe his running nose with the only material available at the time, which just happened to be my sleeve. I was not about to not cuddle him or hold him because he didn't know how to cover his mouth while coughing or sneezing. It comes with the motherhood territory, therefore; I am not complaining.
I especially was not complaining on Monday while my husband was home and I was able to leave quarantine for a few hours to go to the dentist (hey! try spending 4 days solid in your house and you'd be excited by that as well!) and run a few errands. By the time I got home, I felt like I had been hit by a train, and so did Ben. We loaded up on OTCs and hoped for the best. Tuesday was a good day. Yesterday not so bad, and Isaac went back to daycare.
This morning, I woke up with what I am pretty sure is an ear infection and my doctor can't see me until next week unless I make an emergency appointment (read: $$$$$$$$$$$) or go to urgent care (read:$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$), and honestly, I am hoping it um...just goes away, since right now it is really just annoying. I know, that's naive. My head feels stuffed full of cotton and my throat is scratchy. Knowing that my baby felt like this absolutely breaks my heart.
All that is keeping me going right now is the thought of mashed potatoes, my bed, and a new Grey's Anatomy tonight.