And it’s about as much fun as you’d imagine it to be.
Backstory: We attend exactly one party every year, barring unavoidable conflicts. It is hosted by several of my coworkers and it’s a Halloween fiesta not to be missed. We plan our costumes well in advance and this year lined up childcare. As you probably know, having a baby at a party can be quite a drag. They just can’t hang after 2 am, you know? The party was last night and the plan was for Andrew to toddle off to the grandparents for the night. Having not spent a night away from him since July or August, I’ll admit I was looking forward to the break.I was a little sad about it, but mostly looking forward to getting my hair done, doing some shopping, sleeping, and hanging out with friends.
5 a.m. yesterday morning, Andrew woke up with a fever that quickly climbed to 103.9. Just like that, our plans were off.
Twenty minutes later he threw up all over me and it was hot. As in temperature. As in pouring coffee on yourself hot.
Then he just wanted to lay on me or Mr. Aggie. He never does that. By that time we’d talked to the on call nurse who freaked me the hell out when she started asking about purple bruises and HIV and had me hold the phone to his mouth so she could listen to him breathe.
Our pediatrician’s practice has weekend hours and they scheduled us for 11 am. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself (shocking, I know) until we drove past the Pediatric Urgent Care in the same complex. A quick glance over at the strollers lined up outside the door changed my tune pretty quick, fast, and in a hurry. Strollers, people. Sick little babies waiting outside.
The office was pretty empty when we arrived. We went back to a room and Andrew just wanted to nurse. He’d been nursing pretty much nonstop for about five hours at that point. That’s all that made him happy and I would do anything to make him more comfortable. The pediatrician came in eventually. I liked him in spite of having listened to him gossip with a nurse outside of our room for a good five minutes about who’s seeing who and what TV shows they watch. Take your time, oh wise one. I’ll just sit here patiently with my boiling child who may be dying of an AIDS bruise.
He was in the middle of his exam when Andrew did what babies never do: demonstrated his sickness for the doctor. He threw up all over me. Again. Of course I brought three outfits for him and none for me, ensuring that I’d be stuck in the puke-covered sweater for another two hours.
After the big show, the doctor decided to check for flu and strep. We waited ever so patiently while the tests were done. Both were negative, leading to the conclusion that it’s most likely a virus.
He said we should limit Andrew’s milk consumption to avoid situations like the one above. He said the fever and sickness make him thirsty so he’ll drink until his little tummy can’t hold any more. Then I’ll end up wearing it. As much fun as that sounded, we agreed to limit his feedings and space them according to the doctor’s recommendation. I cried a little at the thought of denying him the only comforting ritual he had, but he handled it surprisingly well. He felt so bad that he didn’t mind just sleeping on us or sitting with us.
By seven or so last night he was feeling much better. He actually STTN and woke at 5:00 just to snack and go back to sleep. He’s good as new this morning. I can’t say the same for Mr. Aggie, who is napping, too. He went to bed when I did and also got up for the 5:00 feeding. I got him up when Andrew got up for the day at 8:00. With the help of some fuzzy math he’s convinced himself that he got two hours less than I did last night. Whatever helps you sleep, dude.
The grandparents will be coming over in about an hour to make up for the time they lost. I’ll be running errands. Ah, the glamorous life I lead.