This past week, your mother took you to get your first set of vaccinations. I could’ve gone with you both, but I chose not to because I’m a big wussy who didn’t want to see you cry if I didn’t have to. Instead, I walked Kili around at the adjacent park. Pathetic, but efficient!
You came out of the clinic none the worse and, in fact, sound asleep as you are prone to do whenever we have you in the pram (AKA stroller for you American folk). Your mother did her due diligence on these vaccines and knew to administer some paracetamol / acetaminophen right after the shot so that you didn’t start off with a fever right away (PRO-TIP). It wasn’t until nine hours later, when we were getting ready for bed, when we experienced your first ailment.
I’ve always observed and heard about the worries and sympathy pain parents go through when their kids get sick. It’s real.
So when your fever broke loose that night and you fussed and cried, I kept wishing I could take your fever away, take your place, or just something more than futilely comforting you. Your mother and I tried to figure out what we could/should do:
- Should we give you more medicine even though we had administered it just a couple of hours ago? [No.]
- Should we take off a layer of your clothes? [Yes.]
- Should we give you a sponge bath? [We could have, but we didn’t.]
- Should we crack open a window? [We did in the adjacent room.]
- Is your fever so high we needed to take you to the ER? [They say 40C and up for 3 months and younger; you peaked at 39.6.]
- What the hell do we do??
In the end, we took shifts holding and comforting you through the night. You kicked that fever’s butt by the next evening and was back to your normal pooping-in-clean-diapers-only Milosaurus self. As for us, yes we were more tired than usual, but nothing a little coffee couldn’t fix :)