Our Little Trooper

Anthony has fought off his share of little colds as a daycare-going young man, but this past week he endured his first real illness -- a case of, well, we're not quite sure what.

Tuesday night was a rough one, with the little guy waking every couple hours and having a hard time calming down. As much as I complain about Anthony's sleep habits, that is unusual for him. So, we took his temperature first thing Wednesday morning, and found it to be over 100. His nose seemed stuffy, too, so we kept him home from school, assuming he was battling a cold.

Things didn't improve Wednesday night. This time the fever went up to 103 (why do such things only happen at 2 in the morning?) and we resolved to take him to the doctor the next day.

Mom and Anthony arrived at the pediatrician's office at 8:20. It opens at 9. Neurotic, yes, but we were the first ones to be seen. Not that it really made much of a difference...

The doctor couldn't find any signs of upper respiratory ailments or ear infection, so he ordered blood work and a urine test. When he first suggested the urine test, he told me something to the effect of, "You're going to have to collect a urine sample." I had a moment of panic as I envisioned myself sitting in the bathroom with a naked baby, eagerly holding a little cup in anticipation of Anthony relieving himself. Luckily, a sure-handed nurse came in with a little bag designed for this very situation (OK, I guess it makes sense that the medical world would be prepared for all this, as my baby can't possibly be the first to ever need a urine test). Still, it's not exactly easy to make a five-month-old pee on command -- the whole "think of a dripping faucet" thing doesn't work too well -- so let's just say we enjoyed a long morning in the doctor's office as we waited for the little guy to do his business.

Anyway, it was all for naught, as the urine and blood tests proved inconclusive. We returned to the pediatrician Thursday for a re-run of both. This time the urine test was no problem, but the blood test was another story (see our brave little solider above, with his dual elbow band-aids). The day before, Anthony had smiled happily through the tying of the rubber band, swabbing of the alcohol and insertion of the tiny needle. Thursday, I guess he knew what was coming, and he started screaming as soon as the nurse began to bind his little upper arm. As distressing as it was to watch, the nurse said it means he's smart, as he apparently knew what was about to happen based on the prior day's events. Or he just takes after his wimpy mom.

Well, to make a long story short (Brandon criticizes my long blog posts to no end), Thursday's tests were again inconclusive, and we were told to "wait it out." As frustrating as that is, it looks like it's turning out to be good advice, as Anthony stared perking up last night and appears to be feeling pretty good today, with a temp no higher than 99 or so. We'll keep watching him, but we have our fingers crossed that he's weathered his little mystery illness.

On a side note, I learned two "mom" lessons from this:

One, that you really can tell the difference between your baby's fussy cry and his "I'm in pain cry," and the difference breaks your heart. And two, that there truly is nothing worse than seeing your child in pain and not being able to do anything about it.