I can't even believe how difficult these past two months have been. Wesley is officially 8 weeks old and with maybe a 48 hour reprieve where it appeared that everyone was getting better, then Luke got a fever on Monday. Wednesday, Arie and Moriah. Thursday Jack said he didn't feel well and by bed time he said he felt absolutely horrible. Sounds like the flu to me. How have we been so lucky to get RSV and influenza right back to back with such a tiny baby.
I'm so tired of my kissing him being the way I check to see if he's got a temperature.
I just got a dose of ibuprofen in both Arie and Moriah. Luke appears to be past the worst of it. Every time I wake up to any sound, which tonight has been nearly constantl, I'm pleading for intervention. I'm pleading for healing for my family. I'm pleading for Wesley and I to be spared.
Such a difficult position to be in. My toddler is still nursing, which I'm so thankful for to help her through this, but I'm left terrified to put my newborn to breast.
I'm waiting for this ibuprofen to kick in for Moriah so she will fall asleep and I'm praying for a good rest of the nights sleep for us all. I wish Jack wasn't down for the count too because I'd love to have Moriah holding on to a bottle of ice water instead of room temperature water.
Moriah refuses all medications and things that would help. I just got up to pee and miraculously kept Wesley asleep and was able to sneak a wet washcloth behind her head. I'm hoping it cools her down.
Arie is back to sleep. Waiting for Moriah.