The Comfort Zone

Having done this whole parenting thing for over five years now I've established my parental "comfort zone." Changing particularly nasty diapers? Check. Washing inordinate amounts of laundry? Check. Administering medicine to unwilling takers? Check. Long road trips with three tiny kids? Check. These are the things I've done enough times to be able to handle them in my sleep, while blind-folded, with my hands tied behind my back (or at least without desperately needing chocolate). I've got a reservoir of responses for these scenarios stored away in my sleep-deprived brain and can pull from a number of options with only a momentary pause for reflection. I've got these things down.

Then there are the things outside of my comfort zone. Things like fevers greater than 103 degrees. This week I've been way out of my comfort zone. Baby C has been suffering from a mystery virus that's causing his temperature to shoot to way higher than I am comfortable with temperatures (but not so high as to constitute an emergency per all baby advice websites/books).

103+ degrees is hot, like Baby C feels like a mini furnace kind of hot. Day 1 of the fever wasn't so bad, or so high. His temp stayed in the mid-102's for most of the day and he was his normal happy baby self, only hot. Day 2 made for a fussier baby. At one point his temp was over 103 degrees even with meds working in his system. We had to tag team his Ibuprofen with Acetaminophen to get the fever to a respectable level. Meanwhile, Baby C did an impeccable impersonation of a leech whenever I happened to walk by. He still kept himself busy though, playing with his brother and sister and dancing to his baby music.

Day 3 was rough. The fever was not abating and Baby C was not like himself at all. He was a ball of miserable baby mush and would simply mold into the shape of whomever was holding him. After a brief morning nap, I called the pediatrician's office (baby books be darned!) and made him an appointment right away. As it turns out, all those baby books were right: Baby C likely has a viral infection and we're just going to have to wait it out. I feel much better though knowing that he wasn't suffering through something treatable while I continued to hem and haw over the next course of action.

By this evening, Baby C's temp was down in the normal range (with meds). Randy said I should've taken him to the doctor two days ago since that apparently ensures your child will be on the mend within a few hours of incurring the expense of a same-day doctor's appointment followed by laboratory analyses. He's probably right. It's like a law of physics or something. The same rule applies once you go to the doctor - usually you arrive and suddenly your pathetic little feverish tot is running around the waiting room singing and greeting all the other patients and you find yourself saying "No, really she was vomiting all morning!" to a nurse who is watching your child dance with a doubtful expression on her face.

Regardless, I was so glad to see his smiles this evening. It sure beats the alternative:

Sick Baby Mush

And now maybe I can add high fevers to my comfort zone checklist. Okay, probably not, so I'll just hope that the kids stay healthy.