One of the worst feelings in the world is the helplessness you feel when your child is sick and there is nothing you can do about it. Today was a miserable day three of what the doctor diagnosed as a croup-like virus. My poor Honeybee has had a gurgly, painful sounding cough, she sounds like she's losing her voice, her nose is running like a faucet and while the thermometer claims she does not have a fever, she feels like a furnace.
We went to visit the doctor (for the second time this week). No fever, no ear infection, not strep. All good but that also means antibiotics aren't going to be helping out. (Now, I'm not a fan of the over-prescribing of antibiotics, however I have no objections too their proper and careful use.) With Honeybee being this miserable, I was hoping that it would be something that an antibiotic could knock out in a day or two. Unfortunately, no such luck. The doctor said that we would just have to wait it out and prescribed lots of fluids and lots of popsicles to soothe her throat. And Honeybee was certainly enjoying the abundance of popsicles this afternoon!
For the first time in I don't know how long, Honeybee actually took an afternoon nap. Then she fell asleep again right before dinner and slept for another few hours. Fabulous! That is until she woke up. She spent the next hour (at least) wailing. It was not her normal crying. It was about 2 octaves higher than usual and it was more like a puppy whining than crying. It was the most heartbreaking sound. In her two year, she has never cried like this.
Aside from wanting to be picked up, I couldn't figure out what else she wanted. I don't think she knew either. She kept pointing to the kitchen table. Water? no. Cookies? no, Cake? no. Electronic Label maker? (yes I would have given her anything at this point) no. Animal crackers? pause. I will take that as a yes. I handed her the entire bag of them. She stopped crying for a bout 5 seconds before she realized that she didn't want animal crackers and sent them flying all over the room.
I don't think she even knew what she wanted. I finally just took her upstairs and sat in the rocking chair in the dark and held her while she cried herself to sleep. I was about ready to cry too. I felt so helpless. I felt like I had failed her. I'm Mommy! I'm the Safety Parent! I'm supposed to make everything better, but I couldn't! And while rationally I know that I'm doing everything I can for her, and that in a few days she should be back to normal, it hurt me all the same that I couldn't instantly make it all better.