We’ve had quite a day. Partly because yesterday never really ended. While Blake and I were up all night tending to his persistent cough, I was remembering why I disliked infancy. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my baby boy when he was little bitty. I just happened to hate being sleepy. Anyways, that’s not the point of this story. The point is this:
What could possibly make my darling baby boy go from this
This is what my child looked like after fighting a breathing treatment for 15 minutes straight. He is stubborn, if nothing else. He was wheezing pretty badly this morning, so the doctor wanted to give him albuterol through a nebulizer. I do not enjoy holding my child down, it felt unbearable. We were both crying and sweating by the end of this adventure. Despite how much I hated doing this, not getting this medication puts him at risk of developing pneumonia. If you’ve never seen one of these contraptions, it’s just a little mask attached to a machine that allows him to breathe in the medication. It’s air. I am not torturing this child. And yet, no matter what I did to distract him, he kicked and screamed for 15 whole minutes. He never, for even a moment, calmed down! Wouldn’t you think he would’ve tired of this fight?? Not my baby. We will all rue the day when he can actually throw his weight around.
He’s ok now. He spent the whole ride home telling me, “It’s OK” -which is what I was chanting to him through the whole breathing treatment. The albuterol helped, and he will be getting treatments and steroids for the next 5 days and will hopefully be just fine.
I also want to point out, for the record, that he did just fine back in May when he had Aunt Daina and Bear in the Big Blue House: