Baby germ bomb blows

I'm glad for the blogger app on iPhone. It means I can sit here on the sofa like a slug, surrounded by snotty tissues, drinking cup of coffee number 2 as I scratch out a blog.

We have been a bit ill. First, Ethan started sniffling, then sneezing and before long a full blown cold had taken hold. I felt for the little snotty fella, cuddled him more and wiped his slimy nose. A couple days in, as I sang him a silly song, he sneezed directly into my mouth. After a direct hit from the baby germ bomb, my sympathy found a whole new level. I came down with the same cold and it was a doozie! Less of a cold and more of a mini-plague.

While I can opt to sip orange juice and avoid big meals during my mama-version of the cold, we've been shoving a bottle into Ethan's face at almost every opportunity. Babies breath through their noses. A blocked nose will put them off their food. The fear that he won't get enough, he'll dehydrate or won't get better grows into a daily, mind-consuming panic. Until I find myself, 14 days later, on the sofa realising I have done little more than feed, cuddle and stew over little man's health.

This morning he drank his milk serenely, eyes closed and breathing blessedly through his clear nostrils. The calm I feel is drug-like in its effect on my mood. The whole morning seems fresh and the day full of possibilities. As the cold passes, the sound of him rhythmically swallowing mouthfuls of milk sends me to a meditative calm, where with his gently closed eye lids and toes curled in satisfaction all is right in the world.

When he was really suffering, he would have only a minimal feed, didn't have the desire to play much and really just needed more frequent rests and naps. Thom hit the parenting forums and concluded that this was normal. If anything, we had it easier than others. But that didn't stop my mind from wandering to dark and frightening possibilities ranging from the negative effects of my worry on him psychologically to returning to hospital and tube feeds. I am tempted to say that our horrific experiences around birth have had a lasting effect on me, but all parents seems consumed by similar fears when baby is ill and won't eat. The worst fears, that they will be permanently damaged or wont grow up at all, affect parents all when babies are sick.

Actually, despite not piling on the pounds this week, Ethan's found a way to tell us to not worry so much. The frustration of a blocked nose drove him to kick and twist until he figured out how to roll from back to front. This is now part of his regular play, rolling around and getting himself where he wants to go.

They say babies have an average of
10 colds in the first year. I'm going to have to toughen up.