The baby has man flu.
Or, rather, he’s got his first ever cold and it isn’t a sensation he’s enamoured with at all. This has not enriched our lives in any way, rather it has replaced our lovely calm smiley baby who had finally realised what it was to sleep for most of the night with one who wakes every twenty minutes roaring in need of a cuddle. I blame myself – I am the one who is the likely cause, having had my own doctor visit earlier in the week to diagnose an overall infection of ear, chest and throat (not just a chesty cough, then). I do understand that he is going to get sick and it is part and parcel of being little and getting bigger, but it is just horrible to know that I’m the one who brought the sickness near him.
There were no naps today. There were minor sleeps, from 6.30am until 9.30pm there was a sum total of thirty minutes of sleep, leading to a very tired, red eyed little man who was sick of being awake but not willing to fall asleep. Not a fun combination. Especially since we’d done every hour last night and wound up taking a cat nap on the sofa for an hour and a half at 4am.
However, it seems he may be fine. I brought him to the pharmacy today to see what they could give me to make this go away and the pharmacist looked at him and told me I was a first time mother, before handing me a bottle of Olbas oil for babies and telling me it’s all I can use, and he’ll get over the cough. I assume that means the child will survive the cold, and that they thought I was an over anxious hypochondriac, which is the much better end of the stick.
As to whether we will survive the child’s first cold or not unscathed is yet to be seen…