Long Lost Smile

Here's something I haven't seen in about 48 hours: a big, fat juicy smile from Simon. I feel like our little happy guy went on a trip and sent over a very unhappy, miserable, non-smiley baby in his place.

It all started about 4:00 a.m. on Tuesday morning, when Simon woke up screaming. We knew this wasn't normal wake up cooing, so we checked it out. He was supremely unhappy and boiling hot. This was his first fever. We got the medicine in him and I nursed him back to some semblance of comfort. But, as soon as the medicine wore off, so did his comfort. He's been fussy and unhappy since then and the sleep is near impossible. His fever is hovering around 101, which the doctor says is "low grade." Try telling that to your very despondent 8-month old. The doctor also said we can bring him in only after he's had the fever for 72 hours, so til then we've been managing poor Simon with baby ibuprophen and cuddles. He's not amused.

It's so frustrating not to be able to help him at all. Last night I tried everything: nursing, rocking, sleeping with him, putting him down, singing, telling jokes, snoring, crying, offering him free texting when he gets his first iPhone.

We did finally see two teeth on the top of his mouth yesterday. Little white buds are sticking out and it's a relief to get some confirmation that Simon won't let me touch his face or come near his mouth without a blood curdling shriek.

Teething.

This is what teething does? This level of havoc is from teething? I was half convinced he had hoof & mouth disease (just because I heard a neighbor had it) or angina (because I like to say that word). When I look at his little face-- pale, with sad eyes and droopy frown-- I can't believe it's my Simon. I feel robbed of him from these past 2 days. I will admit that I have enjoyed him sleeping in my arms, which is just the greatest feeling ever, even though I hate that I get that gift because he's suffering.

I am hoping we turn the corner tomorrow, because as loving and Clara Barton-like as I am, I really don't have the level of patience and tenderness that someone as miserable as Simon deserves. By about 4:30 a.m. yesterday morning, I was fearing for my sanity. I was dizzy and desperate and Simon was crying and crying and crying. It was one of the most hellish nights of my life. It was so uncomfortable that by noon today I was already worrying about tonight and how it would go. I wish I didn't have to dramatize every unfortunate development, but I do and that will likely never change. Jeff seems to know that we'll get through this and get smiley Simon back on his schedule and back to being his happy, joyous and free little self. I know I should trust that. I do. But knowing that I SHOULD and actually trusting it are about 2,400 miles apart for me right now.