To The Paed!

Tuesday - it starts...

"So, what they'll tell you at the baby clinic is: "Oh, he's just got a cold!" What they don't tell you is that he'll still spend the night awake and screaming because he can't breathe..." - Rodney

What many won't tell you - not out of spite, but perhaps because it simply doesn't occur to them - is that there is a definite disadvantage to having a child born at the beginning of autumn.  Not only is the final stage of your pregnancy in the blistering heat of late summer, but your little bundle is going to spend the first few months of his or her life dealing with the myriad diseases that seem to so be abundant in the winter season. We have been blessed to have had a healthy home this entire winter, not so much as a sniffle or a cough has darkened our door.  But that all changed last Monday...

Caesar babies are prone to the snuffles, all the goop lining their airways doesn't get squeezed out on the journey from womb to world, and Ricky is no different.  A little bit of saline spray always opens everything right up and keeps his little nose clean - no problem.  So when I was startled out of a deep reverie on Monday evening by gruesome sounds emanating from the baby monitor, I was thoroughly alarmed!  My little man, who has been sleeping through for over a month, was awake at nine thirty, coughing and choking for air, completely congested, a little on the warm side, and not entirely happy.  I wish I could say it had come on slowly and with warning, but that would be a lie.  I also wish I could say that was the worst night we had last week.  That, too, would be a lie.

On Tuesday morning we set off for the baby clinic.  They had a look at Ricky and a chat to us and declared him healthy enough to skip a visit to the paed. We were more than relieved and left with instructions to up the saline, give him some Panado to bring down his temperature and rub some Karvol on his chest to open his airways.  But, despite our best efforts, Ricky hardly slept that night.  As soon as he was vaguely horizontal he would scream and scream, and I felt the most helpless I've perhaps ever felt.  I held him, I rocked him, I sang to him, I was simply just there, but it seemed to do little to no good; and as the hours ticked toward midnight I wanted to cry myself.  It is here that I must give credit to my man.  When I was at my end and about to collapse from exhaustion, he sent me to bed, confiscating the monitor, and spent the next five hours walking and rocking Ricky to help him get some sleep.  I am one lucky girl to have a man so dedicated and willing - he is my rock!  

On Wednesday, Ricky's health improved.  He was in high spirits, smiling and laughing and playing, with only the odd sniff.  We figured another night of Panado and Karvol would do the trick.  We were wrong.  After his final feed, Ricky started screaming - blood-curdling shrieks that cut to my core.  We spent an hour trying to figure out what had gone wrong.  Was his nappy too tight?  Was his temperature up?  Was he hungry?  Was he cold?  Then it dawned on me - the Karvol.  We undressed him and I wiped his chest with a warm cloth.  He calmed instantly.  When I started rubbing in a little aqueous cream to dull the sting, his skin came alive in a series of angry, red patches as if I had ironed over invisible ink.  Then he slept.  And so did we.

Thursday saw our roles reversed.  Ricky was better than he'd been all week, but my throat had turned to sandpaper and Rod was preparing to eject a lung. And so off to the GP we went.  Doc prescribed antibiotics for Rod and I, and a miniscule dose of Coryx for Ricky to dry up his snotty nose.  Ricky slept.  In fact, Ricky slept so much and so deeply I kept checking his breathing out of sheer paranoia!!  We took him off the Coryx.

When we saw the paed for Ricky's six week check-up in May, he was thrilled with Ricky's health and we were quite convinced we'd only be back in his office at six months for the usual exam.  Alas, on Friday we found ourselves in his office, a month short of the mark.  Ricky had become suddenly worse, inconsolable, and we were able to squeeze in at his doctor for an afternoon consultation.  Diagnosis: bronchiolitis and fluid in the middle ear.  Ricky would have recovered had Rod and I not fallen ill, but our ailments kept reinforcing each other, and there was little hope of keeping our boy off of hardcore meds. And so began a course of cortisone syrup, medicated nasal drops and a Ventolin inhaler.  Anyone who has ever had to medicate their child will tell you that it is not for the faint of heart.  Holding a mask over my little one's face while pumping foul-smelling gas into his mouth and nose and forcing him to breathe it in is not on my list of top ten things to do on the weekend.  Not to mention force-feeding him sickly sweet syrup that makes him gag simply at the taste. I thought it could get no worse.  Until we had to fill the second script the paed gave us - penicillin.  

Now I'm no hippie, and I whole-heartedly embrace the miracle of modern medicine, but I'd hoped to avoid this particular course of action until Ricky was at least a bit older.  Alas, I was not going to risk having my child end up in hospital along with the dozens of other children already bedded with the same ailment!  And so began the task of shovelling 5ml of foul-smelling, and worse-tasting, milky fluid into my baba's mouth three times a day, and praying to God that he keeps it down long enough to take effect.  Not to mention keeping an eye out for possible rash in the groin and extremities, shortness of breath, and all the other pleasurable and amiable qualities the gunk has to offer should he react badly to it...  

I am pleased to announce though that he had no adverse reactions!  My little ram is back, in high spirits and more feisty than ever!!  He's still got a few days of his meds left, but he's taking them like a champ!  As if to demonstrate his good health, on Monday he rolled over for the first time.  Now I know that maybe other babies his age have already achieved this milestone, and it may seem trivial, but I'm proud of my little man! He was so pleased with himself, and now does it repeatedly, calling out if I don't see him, and then grinning when I do.  What a lovely little man I have!!

Monday - so chuffed with himself after rolling over for the first time!

It is said that one can tell how close-knit a family is by how quickly disease spreads through it.  This is me calling the glass half-full.  Despite the struggles of the last week, I am blessed to have a family so intertwined and together.  It is, unfortunately, not always the case, and I will not look that particular gift horse in the mouth...  Right now my little man is asleep on my lap after having his lunch.  Every now and then he opens an eye and smiles at me before nodding off again.  I'm so glad to have my baby back!

Here's to much improvement and healthy babies!

Smiles,

Mommy