That's right ..... in the bathroom, sucking up all the steamy goodness her little congested chest could take (and shredding a whole roll of toilet paper). She came down with a nasty cold/virus in the wee morning hours of her birthday which ultimately put us back at the place where it all began one year ago on January 13th. No joke, we ended up making an emergency run to the same hospital where she was born -- on. her. birthday! Honestly, it was like that place had some magnetic force that was pulling us there. When we were driving there during the pitch black of the early morning, I couldn't stop thinking about how images of that place had been clouding my mind for WEEKS (months?) and that we were going right back to the place that had been giving me the heebie-jeebies for the past year.
Luckily everything was fine, and two hours and one dose of Motrin later they sent us on our way with paperwork that diagnosed her with the "common cold." I took one look at those words and instead saw "over-panicked rookie parents," which I'm sure is what the ER staff was probably thinking. But I can't help it, I worry about EVERYTHING when it comes to our Baby Belle and her health. Tuesday night/Wednesday a.m. she was having a hard time sleeping and was breathing kinda funny -- fast, shallow and hard -- so I called the pedi-on-call, and after some breath counting and examination of her chest, we decided to book it to the hospital to get her checked out. Turns out she was probably just breathing that way because she had a fever, sort of like the body's way of cooling itself off. So, now I know.
Three days later and Maribelle is still running a fever off and on and battling whatever it is she has. She's so congested and goopy and snotty and just plain icky. We followed-up with our pedi, who confirmed that it was just a virus, but urged us to keep a close eye on her (done and done!). Again, totally blaming daycare on this one. The two other little kids in her daycare came down with the same thing, however she seems to have gotten hit harder. So now our house is wafting with the fumes of Baby Vapor Rub and bubbling with the sounds of a Winnie-the-Pooh vaporizer. Tissues fill the trashcans (and the waistbands of my pants -- It's my favorite place to stash them.) and a thermometer is always within arm's reach (yes, I check her temp like every hour, seriously). And the gray hairs just keep coming, and coming, and coming.....
** I feel the need to clarify that the Motrin box you see on the floor is just that --- a box. The actual medicine bottle is/was safely out of Belle's reach.
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