She's sick. It is heartbreaking. I know that may sound a touch dramatic, but it really isn't. It makes my heart hurt when I see her glassy-eyed stare and her bottom lip pouting. I hate that I can't fix everything for her. She started a fever two nights ago and I was able to bring it down with a cool bath. I held off on any medicine, even when it got over 102 degrees. I have read a lot about the medicines they tell you to give babies and I am not a fan - especially when it's not really necessary.
But what have I heard about thirty times this weekend? "What have you given hr? When was the last time she had Tylenol? Giver her Motrin. Giver her Motrin and Tylenol. It will make her feel better." But I stuck to my guns. I caved and gave it to her once during the middle of the night because it was the first time I could see she was uncomfortable; she wanted to sleep but she couldn't. ("Treat the child, not the fever.") Besides that, she hasn't needed it. She's been very out of it and much more quiet but not lethargic and no other symptoms.
I have been wearing her a lot, going on as many walks as I can fit in during the day and just nursing, nursing, nursing her. She slept a lot today (a three hour nap this morning, two more half hour naps later in the day, and drifting in and out as I wore her). She's been in bed since around 7 pm too - I just ran up and fed her one side again. I hope that she wakes up tomorrow feeling more herself.
It's interesting to see how she reacts when not well: she didn't want much to do with her solid foods. At all. (This is very unlike her). She wanted momma over everyone else, even her Button. She was much more cuddly and lovey which I liked but it wasn't worth it of course. And she hasn't fought being put in bed at any time.
She's still such a good lil sport, trying to smile, trying to bounce around. I will see how she does in the morning. I've been trying to avoid the doctor's office - not thrilled about taking her there with a compromised immune system right now. And, quite honestly, I don't want to be told to put her on an antibiotic if it truly isn't necessary. I'd rather let the fever run its course and give her natural antibodies through my breastmilk. With that said, I would never put her at risk or let her suffer. So tomorrow morning will my cut-off. If she's still running even a slight fever, I will take her in.
As an exciting mom side-note, something may be developing in the love-life area. Stay tuned....
Love,
Momeo and Juliette
XOXO
Showing posts with label sicky. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sicky. Show all posts
Monday, October 21, 2013
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Breastfeeding, Boogies and Bad News...
First (and I will likely follow this up with a more in-depth post at some point), I love breastfeeding. This has surprised me more, perhaps, than anything else about motherhood. I knew it was best for my baby. I knew I would do it. But I didn't expect to like it. Love it, really. It sounds silly (especially, I am guessing, to those who have never done it) but I feel very proud of the fact that my daughter has been breastfed every day of her life thus far. Up until 6 months, she was exclusively breastfed - nothing else passed those lovely little lips. At six months, she started on fruits and vegetables and has since expanded into some grains and meats. But she is still breastfed like clockwork and I love it. I feel like I am doing right by her ever time I feed her. I love the bonding time; it's built-in, take-a-break-from-life-and-love-your-daughter. I don't even mind it at 11;15 p.m. right as I was on the brink of falling asleep. Or at 2 a.m. Or 4 a.m. Or 6 a.m. For some inexplicable reason, it never ever bothers me to feed her. So I just wanted to share that. Like I said, I have so much more I could say about it and so maybe another rainy day post will be dedicated solely to "the boob" as we call it around here. We shall see. But for any mothers-to-be, try it. You might fall in love with it as I have.
Secondly, boogies - oh my word, the boogies. My little angel is sicky. It's quite heartbreaking and she's not even that bad. God help me if she ever legitimately gets sick. Since yesterday, she has had rosy cheeks and a red bum. She has also been leaking from every single hole in her face. A lot. And yet another cliche is true: "it's amazing what doesn't bother you as a mother." I will wipe those boogers and those runny eyes and that drool with my hand and then immediately use it to wipe my own face. Or to finish my apple. Because those are my boogers and tears and drool. I made all of that. It's not gross, it's cute. The night before last, one of us had an accident in our bed. I won't say which one out of fear of embarrassing someone, but someone peed a bit too much and the sheets were wet at 2:34 a.m. Awesome. Out of bed we were. Changed baby. Cleaned baby. Threw down a blanket over the new definition of a "wet spot" in bed, stuck a boob in a mouth and back to sleep we went. So obviously the first thing I did yesterday morning was strip the bed, wash and dry the sheets, and re-make the bed. (Although, maybe that's not so obvious if you're still grossed out that all I did at 2:34 a.m. was throw a blanket down on top of it. Survival.) Well, I woke up this morning and it looks like all Juliette did the entire time I was sleeping was blow her nose on as many square inches of our sheets as she could possibly reach. So the washing machine and I reunite. It's quite a lot of work having a baby. (But shhh! I wouldn't trade it for the world!)
Lastly, the bad news. F and I were so close to coming to a visitation agreement over the past few days. We had been going back and forth over email with proposals and counter-proposals and counter-counter-proposals. Then today I explained - again - that there were some things I am just not going to voluntarily agree to. Ever. He said he wouldn't either and so we were frozen. He then asked me to switch his visitation time this Thursday and a weekend date next month. I told him that I would be happy to do my best to accommodate him with that if he would agree to this. Well, that is all it took to set him off. I received some nasty text messages, one of which attacked me as a mother. (Really? Ugh. When do men grow up? He is 31 years old. I am the mother of his child. A damn good mother, which he knows, and it's the first place he goes when he's stomping his feet and crossing his arms. So disrespectful.) Anyway, I am fairly confident that the same person attacking me as a mother wants to cancel his regular time with his daughter because of a football game. I wish these men were forced to grow up as much as them women are when they become pregnant; their lives don't change. Yet they still want all the benefits, all the "pro"s of becoming a parent. It really frustrates me despite how much I try to blow it off. So - back to court we go tomorrow. It's our last conference (i.e., another opportunity for the judge to chastise us, tell us to grow up, talk it out, and come to an agreement because we don't belong in Family Court) before our set trial date. I am not giving in this time. I'm just not. I have to follow my gut and do what I think is best and if other people around me think that makes me "difficult" or "a bitch," I just cannot care. I am crossing everything that a miracle will occur and someone will grow up a bit tonight as he sleeps and be willing to agree with me tomorrow. If not, well...I am sure you will hear about it here.
Love,
Momeo and Juliette
XOXO
Secondly, boogies - oh my word, the boogies. My little angel is sicky. It's quite heartbreaking and she's not even that bad. God help me if she ever legitimately gets sick. Since yesterday, she has had rosy cheeks and a red bum. She has also been leaking from every single hole in her face. A lot. And yet another cliche is true: "it's amazing what doesn't bother you as a mother." I will wipe those boogers and those runny eyes and that drool with my hand and then immediately use it to wipe my own face. Or to finish my apple. Because those are my boogers and tears and drool. I made all of that. It's not gross, it's cute. The night before last, one of us had an accident in our bed. I won't say which one out of fear of embarrassing someone, but someone peed a bit too much and the sheets were wet at 2:34 a.m. Awesome. Out of bed we were. Changed baby. Cleaned baby. Threw down a blanket over the new definition of a "wet spot" in bed, stuck a boob in a mouth and back to sleep we went. So obviously the first thing I did yesterday morning was strip the bed, wash and dry the sheets, and re-make the bed. (Although, maybe that's not so obvious if you're still grossed out that all I did at 2:34 a.m. was throw a blanket down on top of it. Survival.) Well, I woke up this morning and it looks like all Juliette did the entire time I was sleeping was blow her nose on as many square inches of our sheets as she could possibly reach. So the washing machine and I reunite. It's quite a lot of work having a baby. (But shhh! I wouldn't trade it for the world!)
Lastly, the bad news. F and I were so close to coming to a visitation agreement over the past few days. We had been going back and forth over email with proposals and counter-proposals and counter-counter-proposals. Then today I explained - again - that there were some things I am just not going to voluntarily agree to. Ever. He said he wouldn't either and so we were frozen. He then asked me to switch his visitation time this Thursday and a weekend date next month. I told him that I would be happy to do my best to accommodate him with that if he would agree to this. Well, that is all it took to set him off. I received some nasty text messages, one of which attacked me as a mother. (Really? Ugh. When do men grow up? He is 31 years old. I am the mother of his child. A damn good mother, which he knows, and it's the first place he goes when he's stomping his feet and crossing his arms. So disrespectful.) Anyway, I am fairly confident that the same person attacking me as a mother wants to cancel his regular time with his daughter because of a football game. I wish these men were forced to grow up as much as them women are when they become pregnant; their lives don't change. Yet they still want all the benefits, all the "pro"s of becoming a parent. It really frustrates me despite how much I try to blow it off. So - back to court we go tomorrow. It's our last conference (i.e., another opportunity for the judge to chastise us, tell us to grow up, talk it out, and come to an agreement because we don't belong in Family Court) before our set trial date. I am not giving in this time. I'm just not. I have to follow my gut and do what I think is best and if other people around me think that makes me "difficult" or "a bitch," I just cannot care. I am crossing everything that a miracle will occur and someone will grow up a bit tonight as he sleeps and be willing to agree with me tomorrow. If not, well...I am sure you will hear about it here.
Love,
Momeo and Juliette
XOXO
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