Storms and Sick Days

We went up to my parent's house Saturday.  They live, oh, right in the middle of where all of the tornadoes hit.  It was our monthly temple day, so we drove up to leave the Boy with his beloved Nana and Popper, while Chris and I went to work.

When we were done, we headed back to my parent's house, we were all heading out to lunch together.  The Boy had had a little cough before we left, it sounded mostly like allergies and, you know, 'tis the season.  So I wasn't that worried about it.  We went to Chick-fil-A and the Boy was about 3 nuggets in, when he looked at me with this sad face and said, "Mama, neeeeeeeeed a cuddle."  At which point he climbed into my lap and put his head on my chest and laid there looking exceedingly pitiful.

That didn't really worry me.  I didn't really get worried until he was no longer content to just lay on my chest, he reached up and pushed my face down on top of his head.  THAT'S when I got worried.

We finished lunch and headed back to my parent's house.  I put the Boy down to sleep in the extra bedroom and visited with my Grandma.  As the Boy napped, the storms rolled in, the sky grew dark and lowering, but having seen some storms in my days, I wasn't really phased.

The Boy didn't nap well and when he woke it was with a coarse and rattling cough.  He lay on my lap in the rocking chair refusing food and taking a little water.  We chatted and watched some television, watching the Boy for signs of increasing distress.  It just seemed like a virus.  No big deal, right?

The power went out and we decided to head home.  The Boy needed some dinner and a bath and an early bedtime.  As we were on our way we drove through a sleepy town called Holly Springs and lo, there were trees ripped up and apart, shingles blown off of roofs, lots and LOTS of debris.  I called my Dad.  I requested that he please listen to the radio, please be careful, there were tornado warnings, and one had been reported south of where they lived and it seemed that one had now touched down just north of where they lived.

Sure enough, the tornadoes touched down all around them but no where near their neighborhood.  Wow.

We got home and the Boy was getting worse and worse, the cough was getting worse, the Boy was now telling me repeatedly, "Do not feel good, Mama, do not feel good."  It was just as pitiful as you might imagine.  He ate 3 spoonfuls of oatmeal and requested his bath.  I ran him a long hot bath, thinking that it would be steamy and comfortable.  No.  He sat shivering for about 5 minutes before requesting soap and a cuddle.  So I soaped him up and got him clean and ready for bed.  We cuddled on the couch before putting him down for bed an hour early.

About 3 hours later he woke in a violent fit of coughing, coughing to the point he was shaking and wheezing and pretty well freaking out.  I can't say that I blame him, I was a little freaked out as well.  We gave him more tylenol and refilled the humidifier, I rocked him and rubbed his back (sounding a good deal calmer than I felt), encouraging him to breathe in and out very slowly and deliberately.  He sounded wheezey and congested, and I was really worried at that point. 

The Boy went back to sleep and I lay in bed listening hard for his coughs or cries.  He slept the rest of the night long, but me?  Nope.  Not a bit.

By morning he was still sick, but not nearly as wheezey as he had been that first night.  It was a terrible feeling, to sit powerless while your child struggles to breathe.  And I learned in that moment a new degree of empathy for those mothers whose children struggle.  We've been really blessed, the Boy is so healthy it's a little strange.  At his last check up the doctor was thoroughly impressed at how healthy he is, and this weekend made me even more grateful for his normal and natural health.

We spent yesterday as a sick day, both of us in our jammies, feeding the Boy whatever he wanted whenever he declared that he was hungry.  And today?

We're doing our normal Monday Thing--laundry, cleaning, groceries, and trying to be available for lots of cuddles.  And just to conclude our Picture week from a bit ago, I thought I'd leave you with a picture of what sick days look like 'round these parts.

Because when you're sick, 1 woobie is never enough.