Last weekend Sophia had trouble sleeping. She's normally a great sleeper. I chalked it up to teething. Monday she woke up from her nap with a fever. I called Stephan to pick up some motrin, just in case. Monday night those fevers got high....really scary high....over 104.
She quit nursing.
She just slept and slept and slept.
When she was awake she was pitiful.
Tuesday her fever stayed around 102. I figured it was just a bug she'd get over.
Tuesday afternoon she was asleep in my arms, and I could feel her temperature rising over a matter of minutes.
I slipped a thermometer under her arm.
I didn't let it finish. When it hit 103, I pulled it out and put her in a sink full of lukewarm water.
It all just felt so wrong. Levi has been sick before. He's run super high temps even. But, there was just something different this time. I can't fully explain it, but Sophia was the sickest baby I'd ever seen.
Stephan was at work. I called my mom, and she met us at the after hours clinic.
When the doctor told me that Sophia had a blood infection and needed an antibiotic, I wanted to do my usual, "Gee, thanks, but no thanks, doc." But, I knew he was right.
They gave her a shot of rocephin, and instructed me to schedule a follow up with her doctor the next day.
Thankfully, the next day she was showing big signs of improvement, but even with all the improvements she still classified as the sickest baby I'd ever seen. Her doctor (who I love and who truly respects our desire to medicate as little as possible) sat down, sighed a deep sigh, and said, "She really needs a round of antibiotics. You can wait until tomorrow if that will make you feel better, but she needs them."
We hoped that maybe she was wrong, but when Sophia began to go downhill again that evening, we got the prescription filled.
She's improved with each dose.
She's even smiling again.
Smiles are good.