One afternoon I was in the backyard with my sometimes happy charges waiting for the sun to go down so I could feel a little less guilty about hiring the Netflix Nanny to step in for me while Jake worked late, when surprise of all surprises he called to tell me he was coming home. Early. So we could go get ice cream or something. Yes, we wild.
We started talking about something else and allllllll of a sudden I heard hacking from the master bathroom. Yes, yes, yes the bathroom where Beck likes to nap. Can you tell he's the third? Shock of all shocks. So anyway, from what I could Sherlock, this wasn't just a clear your throat cough or even a light hack. And he just kept coughing. A lot. Cough cough cough cough cough AND cough.
Jake came home and assured me that he was fine and that he was "pretty sure" his lungs would suffer no permanent damage from a little bit of hacking. Anyway...I know I sound like one of those crazy hypochondriac parents (protesting too much? never) but when Beck started just laying limply ion my chest I will admit that I worried just a little bit. But there was no fever and he was still eating fine so I tired to keep my momma bear in check.
That night I filled the bathroom with steam from the shower to help stop the cough.
I am medicine woman.
Except it didn't even kind of help, of course.
Long story still long...we let Tiny Tim sleep in our bed with us where he grunted and snored (that somehow lulled Jake right to sleep) and I am certain our little patient fractured my clavicle with his pumpkin head thrashing. It was all so fun, but I had to draw the line somewhere and I was as frustrated as a human can possibly be with a sick 3-month-old without being totally out of line. I think he sensed that my fun buzz had worn off and politely settled in for a night of fitful sleeping for 45 minute increments from 1-7. It was still worlds better than when Rhett was a few days old so I'm not complaining just reporting in painful detail what the 30th of June entailed for me and my family. Also and related: I will not miss the not sleeping part of the newborn stage. Ever.
The next day I watched the seconds click by till our pediatrician office opened and called to get the first available appointment.
We truly have the BEST pediatrician, and even though I'm sure he loves all he patients, he's really good about making me believe that he thinks my kids are the most special little snowflakes.
We got in right away and after listening and observing Beck he felt it best to admit him to the hospital for 24 hour observation/oxygen/IVand make sure it wasn't whopping cough.
Thankfully the whooping cough tests came back negative (we do vaccinate, but Beck had just gotten his first round the first of June and he had been with a lot of people and kids on our trip so we had some legitimate concerns) and it was determined that little Beck just got hit extra hard with the common cold because of his premie status.
Best news ever for his hypochondriac mother. Which meant that his mother felt justified in a little hospital photo-shoot. To celebrate his almost clean bill of health of course.
And in other hospital documentation the boys thought the lobby was akin to Disneyland. And we didn't correct them.
Except for the creepy girl reading a book at the end of the hall. Even our friendly labradoodle-esq children didn't want to make friends with her and Rad tiptoed past her with some serious terrified side eye any time he wanted to see the trains.
All in all, not a terrible hospital stay but we'd be just has happy to keep our visits to the lobby. Because that seems like a normal family outing right...?
And the most important part is Beck is doing much better. He's on the tail end of a week long nebulizer regiment after a little relapse and he's back to the smiles and frantic leg kicking.
It's hard when your nebulizer mask is the size of your little face little man.
You're a trooper. :)