The last time Jasper caught the virus, he was seven months old. I caught it from him, and was really sick. I had a few blisters, but the fever lasted for 22 days. (That’s not a typo: I had a fever for OVER THREE WEEKS.) I had to keep working, and caring for our baby. I couldn’t nurse Jasper anymore and we ended up having to use formula.
So when Jasper brought the virus home last week, I was nervous. I Lysoled the house every day. I gave Sawyer the colostrum I had stored in the freezer from my pregnancy, praying that it would boost his immune system.
Jasper was better in a couple of days, but then Sawyer began to spot-up.
His arms, legs and throat were covered in painful blisters and his fever persisted for a few days. My happy baby didn’t stop crying for three days.
He nursed every hour or so for over 72 hours. He insisted on being bounced on the yoga ball for hours at a time, or his painful howling would grow to unbearable volumes.
I was beyond exhausted; I had become a shell of a person, a walking zombie of a mom.
At one point, Patrick dragged Sawyer from my arms and brought both boys outside, hoping that I could enjoy a moment or two alone in the shower to rest my aching body.
“Daddy! Get Mommy- something is WRONG. Why is Sawyer crying like that?” Jasper shouted over Sawyer’s sobs.
Patrick’s heart broke, and so did Sawyer’s fever an hour or two later.