It Never Ends...

Last night, I stayed up until 12:45, until my eyes could stay open no longer and set my quiet little cell phone alarm to wake me an hour and a half later to give the breathing treatments.  It's always easier for me to stay up than it is to get up, but my body was telling me, no go.  

I awoke with the alarm, so freezing cold that I had to stay in a dream-wake-sleep for almost 20 minutes before I dragged myself out of that snuggly warm bed. It was 2:30ish and I headed upstairs.  Entering the room, I became aware of Braden's breathing, almost like a little "pop-pop-pop" instead of a slow, even drawing of breath.  It made me worried because that's how Cole was just a few nights ago.  He started coughing hard and frequently, so I gave him his treatment first. His fits of coughing seemed to slow and I figured it must be his asthma and stuffy nose causing those short, staccato breaths. I gave Cole his treatment, ever-glancing back at my poor B-Man, semi-asleep in his crib; worried, worried, worried. Cole is doing well, it seems. Fever is coming down.  I gave him his Motrin at 3:00 and wondered if Braden could use some as well, if only to help quiet the coughing and soothe his poor throat. I decided against it and would wait, listening for any signs of trouble. Before I left, I realized just how cold the room was getting, since overnight it became pretty cold here. I needed that to change.

 

I went back downstairs and decided to stoke up the wood stove and turn on the fans to the house and the dedicated fan to their room.  I stoked and waited and basked in the fire for an hour, hoping that would bump up the temp enough in their room for the night. I had put all of their blankets on them before I left, but like all toddlers, they are restless sleepers and blankets are usually the casualty of those little fighting arms and kicking legs.  So, I wanted the room to be snuggly, especially if they weren't feeling well.

At 4:00, I succumbed to my soft and warm bed, finally, and fell asleep right away.  

At 4:30, those "signs of trouble" I was listening for awoke me - Braden was crying and it didn't sound like a passing thing.  I got up, went upstairs and realized that his temperature had soared! Oh, why didn't I think to actually touch his forehead a few hours before?  If only, I would have realized that his symptoms were from a blazing fever and not asthma.  He was crying because his whole body hurt!  I didn't bother to take his temperature, I wanted to quickly get medicine into his system, get him calm and try not to wake the other two.  

I ended up on various rocking chairs through the house, trying to settle him far away from his room and siblings, and at 5:30, we ended up on the couch. He seemed to settle for a few hours there with me, both snoozing away. Mike woke me up at 7:30 and I realized his temp was soaring again (or still), 3 hours after Motrin. We gave him Tylenol and tried to go back to sleep for an hour.  We did.  But his temp was still up there, at about 103. 

Mike just left to take him back to the doctor, hoping that if he does have full-blown pneumonia like his brother, they will give him the super-antibiotic shot too. These guys deserve to be healthy again.

Hopefully, he will come back with good news.  It never ends!