This weekend, my baby was sick.
He spiked a fever last night.
He wanted his “Dada” over his “Momma”. That one was hard.
He tossed and turned and cried all night long.
We gave him Tylenol.
Mike walked him, rocked him and slept on the couch with him.
This morning, he was ready to return to his Momma. He drank and drank, clearly thirsty from fighting whatever his little body had come down with.
His nose was crusted with yellow snot. His eye was poofy and red. His hair was slick with sweat.
He fought the fever on and off all day long.
Late afternoon, it finally broke.
He ate a little. He drank a lot.
Suddenly, he smiled and giggled.
He hopped down and started playing with his toy.
Our baby had returned.
It is such an amazing feeling to know your little one is feeling better.
It’s only been 3 weeks since Wyatt started regularly going to daycare… and he’s been sick twice. This time was the worst of his life.
I hope he builds his immunity fast. It’s so hard when you let your little one into the world and have to trust that what they face they will overcome.