Roseola, pretty name, nasty virus

Well, as I admitted earlier, I'm a terrible blogger. I wrote a lengthy blog about it yesterday, but this lovely little app deleted it! Oh well, the revised version might be better anyway. I'm going to try to be a better blogger. I already regret not keeping an account of all the little momentous occasions. Part of my problem is that I started it when Henry was a few months old. Playing catch up became too daunting. I think Facebook is the other problem, I feel like I'm already updating something, but not for the long haul. So, here's to a fresh beginning! I've got plenty of pictures to document the rest!

So a difficult week was the impetus behind me to tapping at the keyboard again. We had our first real scare. Henry woke up with a ridiculously high fever for the second night in a row. After the routine stripping him down to his diaper, and meds, he still spiked a 105.1 fever. Mark put him in a cold shower, I prepared for the ER, but called our pediatrician first. Our favorite nurse Anne called us back 5 minutes later at 4 am! Yeah Anne! She told us we did everything right, which was precisely what we'd needed to hear, and to keep him home. As long as we could keep his fever down, and he wasn't acting odd, he'd be more likely to see his pediatrician in the morning than an ER doctor in the middle of the night. Relief! Well, slight relief anyway.

So, with a burning baby sleeping on my chest and my phone in the other, I searched for the damage high fevers can cause. Turns out babies can get up to 107 unscathed. And me worrying about a mere 105.1! That being said, I can't tell you how happy I was to hear Henry's wake up routine of pointing out my nose, eyes, mouth. We grabbed a bouquet for Anne, and faced the doctor's prognosis.

Roseola, of the measles family of viruses. High fever, runny nose, puffy eyes, and ending in a rash. Runs it's course after a few days.

Here's his beautiful puffy eyed face.

The rest of the day was spent with me critiquing children's television, with a lethargic child on my lap. Thankfully, Henry's taste in tv is pretty good. He usually requested "Gabba" right when I was about to pull my hair out on a sub par show. Even Gabba gets old after several hours straight.

By day 3 his fever was down, his irratation was up and my patience was worn thin. Thankfully, the end was in site. I have to admit, there is nothing better than having a sleeping child on your chest, even if he has driven you a little nuts all day. I'm happy to say our little guy is back to his happy little self, with just a hint of a rash. Having him be that sick was awful, but it was a nice reminder of how lucky we are to have such a healthy boy.

Here's one more picture of the little angel.