Many of my friends' babies have had Croup, and I thought it just came with high fevers and a seal-bark cough. And it does. But when it was my baby, my world was ending.
Monday, he was great and playful, but when I was putting him to bed he coughed and I heard the first of many barks. That bark sticks closely to his first cry in my mind. I thought he would be fine because he didn't have a fever, and I laid him down. About midnight, he woke up and we brought him to our bed where we noticed he was burning up. Still he was sleeping and breathing fine, so nothing was thought about it. Jackson kept him home Tuesday just as a precaution, and took him to the pediatrician that morning.
They confirmed it was croup and gave him a steroid shot.
Cue Mom guilt.
Jackson said he was doing great, but after he woke up from his nap he would cough and wince, and cry because he just didn't feel good. That night, his fever spiked to over 104 and his poor body shook and shook with chills. I took him to the bathroom and ran a hot shower in hopes the steam would make him feel better (because of course we caught it in the summer and going outside in the cold wasn't an option). After he threw up all over him and me, we got in the shower, fully clothed, to cool down. It was the first time I had heard him laugh all night and was well worth it.
Wednesday, Jackson and I both stayed home because we were terrified. Plain terrified.
Wednesday was the worst of it all. He was lethargic, weak, and pitiful. His fever reached 104 at points, but he stayed in good spirits when he could stay awake. Wednesday night was awful and he could not keep down motrin to save any of our lives (and if I couldn't get him to keep down 1.875 mL of Motrin I wasn't going to attempt 5mL of Tylenol). So again we got in the tub where he and I sat in cold water in hopes it would bring his fever down. It was a success, but by Thursday we were all exhausted.
Thursday came and he still had a fever, but was starting a cruddy cough instead of the bark, hallelujah! Friday was more of the same with a low grade fever never reaching 100, which we determined was probably his overachieving and cutting all four canine teeth at once.
Saturday came and he was good as new, and Sunday brought us back our babbling, giggling, running baby!
This was the worst week of my life. Not being able to help my baby feel better is the worst thing I've ever experienced. I am so thankful for answered prayers, and I cherish that sweet sweet smile.
