Number One: On Tuesday, Nicholas came down the post-nursery sniffles. (It's rather inevitable that they get sick from nursery, I mean, I've seen how those kids "share" toys. BUT, why oh why don't people keep their kids home when they are sick? Seriously. It is just plain rude in my opinion.)
Thursday afternoon, I noticed he seemed to be wheezing a bit. By the time Kent got home from work, Nicholas was panting and wheezing, but he was still running and playing almost as much as normal. But when I noticed how I could see the space between his ribs with each breath, I knew he was working too hard to breathe, so we headed in to the pediatrician.
Thank heavens our pediatrician's office is open late hours for sick children. Otherwise we'd have had to go to the ER.
And with the trauma that Nicholas endured just at the doctor's, I'm certain he would have not been able to handle a visit to the hospital.
They tested his blood, swabbed his nose, got an oxygen reading, and we did a breathing treatment. He was more unhappy and angry than I've ever seen him. And then, when it was determined that he did not have RSV, the flu, croup, or pneumonia, the doctor thought it might be some sort of bacterial infection in his lungs.
Add to the list of previous torture: a great big antibiotic shot.
We were sent home with the nebulizer and instructed to give him treatments throughout the night and to take him to the ER if he got any worse at all.
Our home teacher came over and helped Kent give Nicholas a blessing.
Nicholas slept okay. Kent slept pretty well.
I didn't sleep. At all.
Standing by the crib, listening to each labored breath, asking myself if he seemed any better or any worse, all throughout the dark night...I reached an entirely new level of mother-fear.
Friday morning dawned and Nicholas was up and asking for breakfast. And he was breathing. Without struggling.
I took him in-the doctor wanted to check on him. She listened to his lungs, and pronounced him clearly on the mend.
We've been giving him treatments, but only once or twice a day now, he's on antibiotics, and really, he's completely back to his normal self (minus the steroid-induced mood swings, which are awesome).
I am all the more grateful now to have a healthy, happy little boy. He is everything to us.
Number Two: I have gained three pounds already just in chocolate chip cookies.
I'm not making them very quickly, because I don't think it would be fair for me to taste-test someone's recipe when I'm feeling completely sick of chocolate chip cookies.
So far, I've tried four recipes. Two were very good, and two were knock-our-socks-off-gotta-have-another-awesome. (Hence the three pounds. I have no self-control.)
It's going to be a close competition.
So today, Nicholas and I are home from Church, and I think we'll bake some cookies.