Croup visits the Boswells

Oh goodness. Childhood illnesses. 

So far in Bear's life, we haven't experienced too many (*knocks on wood*). She tends to be a fairly healthy thing, other than the occasional cold, so croup was a surprise. My sister, bless her, has always had respiratory issues, and my dad, BLESS HIM, is Pediatrician Extraordinaire, so I've been really accustomed to lung/respiratory issues and how to approach them all my life (also, I have this random memory from when I was about 5 wherein my dad held my head in the freezer in the middle of the night and then took me to the ER for a breathing treatment. I'm assuming I had my very own case of croup. Or my dad had a weird idea of what constitutes a good time for a 5-year-old.). However, it's a little different when it's your own kid. I suspected she might be croup-y Wednesday night, so I called my dad (pediatrician on speed dial who won't charge you and will always answer = BEST LIFE EVER) just to clarify what I should do. I know the basics, but I figured this isn't the kind of thing you want to mess up. He heard her barking over the phone and confirmed my suspicions. And so we began a very long night.

Claire has always been a good sleeper (not trying to rub it in to any of you who may not have good sleepers...just setting the background. And, I'm so sorry for your regularly scheduled rough nights. Gold stars for everyone.), so Brad and I have been VERY accustomed to full, uninterrupted nights of sleep since she was about 2 months old. We don't handle sleep deprivation well (yay for a newborn on the way, right?). Brad had been fighting his own cold for a few days and had taken Nyquil, so I was on my own. We were up a lot, Claire and I. Doses of cold medicine, fluids, propping her up, diffusing oils and rubbing them on her feet (my "witch doctoring," as Brad calls it. It helps, folks.), and, eventually, alternating sitting in a bathroom full of shower steam with holding her head in front of the freezer. GOOD TIMES.

Around midnight, I just moved to the guest room so that I wasn't jostling Brad so much every time I got up (because let's please all remember that I'm also pregnant and go to the bathroom every 20 minutes) and slept with one eye (ear?) open. I got between 3-4 hours of sleep, I think, which wouldn't be ideal under normal circumstances but was particularly rough given that I've been nursing a headache-migraine combo for the past week. The sleep deprivation really exacerbated what I already had going on. All around not a great night. 

Come morning, I was DRAGGING. Claire was doing a bit better, although her middle of the night breathing issues had been a little traumatic. She spent quite a bit of time repeating, "I'm a little bit sick, Mommy. (fake-ish cough)" I debated taking her to the doctor, but I'm honestly kind of terrified of seating my third trimester self in a waiting room full of virus-y children. All I can think about is what kind of birth defect it will give my unborn, nameless child (I realize this is a little hyperbolic, but it is definitely what goes on in my head). Thankfully, Doctor Dad came to the rescue with a treatment plan that kept me and my unborn child out of Virus World. I dosed Claire with medicines ("That doesn't taste like nice, Mommy") and set her up with a steady stream of Curious George (thinking she would be tired and listless and would enjoy resting and watching) and stretched my weary self out on the couch, planning to nap a bit. 

That was silly.

In the sweetest ways possible, she woke me up every 5-7 minutes for the next hour. She would come over to pet my hair, kiss my forehead, or adjust my blankets so that I would "feel better." Cranky, pregnant, sleep-deprived me wanted to tell her to please, for the love of everything, sit down and watch the curious primate, but my better sense kicked in and tried to fully appreciate her sweet self because seriously? That's adorable, and there's a good chance she won't be doing that when she's 13.

I gave up on trying to rest, deciding I would crash during nap time, and got up to work in the kitchen. At this point, some kind of something kicked into Claire's system, and she started running literal circles through the house, imploring me to join in. This went on for the better part of an hour. I considered locking myself in the bathroom.

Nap time did not turn out quite as I'd hoped, seeing as how her normally 2-hour nap sessions suddenly reduced to an hour. Why?? (it's the daytime cough syrup. I figured it out. Blast you, cough syrup.) She woke up fully awake, and it took me more than an hour to shake the slept-not-quite-enough fog I had sunk into. Plus, there was that ever-present headache.

The rest of the day followed suit. Her running in circles and talking non-stop, while I tried to stay upright and not snap at her. It was so. much. fun. (except the opposite)

That night played out almost identically to the night before, except I was better prepared. I dosed her faithfully with the required medications, witch doctored her room and feet, and slept with my one eye/ear open in the guest room (Brad offered to help, but I knew he had a busy, early day the next day.). She did tell me- during a stint in the steamy bathroom- that her neck hurt. My brain went immediately to "DOES SHE HAVE MENINGITIS?" (because I'm very logical at 3 in the morning, obviously), but after some questioning, I discovered that by "neck," she meant "throat." Whew. I can deal with that. Here, child, drink a lot of water. We also propped her pillows up to make a "pillow chair" that she found intriguing and exciting. I just wanted to make sure she could breathe. I went in an hour later to make sure she was still breathing and found the pillow chair dismantled and scattered on the floor. Thankfully, she didn't wake up as I reassembled it. Win for the Mom! (until I went in the next morning and found it dismantled again)

She spent that day begging me to take her somewhere (mostly Target for popcorn or to the museum). I had to keep reminding her that she was sick. Bless. Only a 2-year-old would need to be reminded of that, methinks. I surely don't.

At some point, the steroids (which I'm blaming for the excessive energy) also started making my usually incredibly sweet child SO UNBELIEVABLY CRANKY. That is just kicking a mom when she's down from head troubles and sleep deprivation, don't you agree? I had to keep reminding myself that it's to help her. So she can breathe. Breathing is important. We need to keep her breathing.

Thankfully, Brad was on the mend for night 3 and took over nighttime care. It was such a blessing, as my head situation had reached an almost unbearable level of awful. She still coughed quite a bit, but she seemed to be past the barking phase and is breathing quite a bit more easily, which enables me to breathe more easily myself. So, although she's still coughing, it seems we're over the worst and can shelve this round of illness. 

Hopefully. 

But what in the world will her immune system look like when she starts school? *bites nails and thanks the good Lord for Doctor Dad*

Guys. Have y'all noticed how regularly I've been posting recently?? Twice a week so far all year! Yay, me! In fact, I have over 20 drafts that I'm currently working on with ideas and such. How proud are you? Even with those drafts in play, I thought I'd just ask if there's anything in particular anyone would like me to write about. Claire-related? Durham-related? Any-other-aspect-of-life-related? I'd be happy to, if anyone has any ideas. I've got drafts, but that doesn't mean you'll enjoy all of them, so chime in!