The Sun'll Come Out Tomorrow

Florida was on a huge thunderstorm and tornado alert yesterday, which had us cooped up inside all day. If you're a seasoned Mama, you know how stir crazy it can make you--especially with a sickly little one. If you read Emmy's 11th Month post, you'd know that she's been feeling particularly under the weather. Since last Wednesday to be exact. {hence the reason there was no 'formal' sticky-belly pic}& she's been running a fever on and off all weekend. As a mother, it's so hard to see my little love in such discomfort. 


We've just been bumming it around these parts lately; & if there's anything to like about my baby being sick, it's the extra snuggles and "ma-ma"'s. But honestly, none of that even matters when your baby is running a 105 degree fever. 


Yes. 

You read that right. One. Oh. Five. 

Yesterday, I knew my baby bird didn't feel well at all when she wasn't standing (or even sitting) up at her crib when I went to get her from her nap. She was crying and crying, and wouldn't stop even after I picked her up. When I saw those three numbers on the thermometer screen, my heart immediately dropped to my stomach. & panic settled in. Wanting to make sure I had an accurate reading, I took it again. Same number.


I could barely finish changing her diaper, as I turned my head away from my very miserable daughter and lost it cried. It was one of those cries where no sound comes out because you don't want anyone to hear you. I felt like my heart was about to burst out of my chest, it was beating so hard. Immediately I called Blake, who was working at the hospital (3rd year med school rotations). I collected myself enough to call the pediatrician's office, where the nurse told me, "You need to take her to the emergency room." I could barely let out an, "Okay," before hanging up and crying hysterically. It was no surprise to me. I mean, I knew that's what she was going to say; but thinking about it, and actually hearing those words are two completely different emotions.


Everyone always says that you're going to go through something like this as a mother at some point, but Geeze Louise! No one ever said how mystifying it is. By this point, I'm running around like a crazy person, throwing things into a bag. Bottles, formula, clothes... I, myself, was wearing leggings, a long-sleeve shirt, house shoes, tattered hair thrown up into a poor excuse for even a messy bun, and a very red & blotchy complexion.


When we got to the hospital, we went straight to the clinic, where B knows the residents. This way, if we had to be admitted, we could by-pass all the waiting. Her temperature was 101.8 by that time, which calmed my nerves just a bit. We were beginning to think the thermometer might have been slightly inaccurate? Any who, my sweet baby girl was still crying, but who could blame her? On top of already feeling so shitty, she's being poked and prodded by strangers.


We basically had a couple of choices: 1. Go home with tylenol and motrin, and if she wasn't getting any better, take her to after hours pediatrics. Or, 2. Take her to the ER.


Since we were already at the hospital, we figured we might as well take her downstairs to the ER. Thank goodness the resident called ahead for us. We were seen right away. It was so heartbreaking to see Emmalyn screaming when she was whisked away by nurses who stripped her down to take her temperature. It's something I hope I never have to see again.


We didn't have to wait too long to be seen by the ER doc. She was very kind and sympathetic to us, which I really appreciated. After a while, you could tell the motrin had kicked in because Emmy started waving and clapping her hands. It was almost as if she were saying, "Great job, Mom & Dad! You passed the emergency test. Way to go!"


I just rested my head against the wall and sighed in relief. 


Walking to the car, I was surprised to see it still hadn't started storming yet. Reports had said it would be storming by 3pm, with tornado watches. It was 6pm. When we got home, Emmy enjoyed her evening bath, bottle, and story-time. (As much as a little girl can when under the weather.) 


While rocking her in my arms before laying her down for bed, I prayed to God once more, for watching over and protecting my little angel. I thanked Him for keeping us out of the storm's way. & I kid you not, the song that was playing right then and there on the Easy Listening TV music station in the other room was "The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow."


I thought to myself, Yes. Yes it will.

& you know what? It was 81 and sunny today. & my baby girl is on her way to feeling better. Slowwwllly, but surely.

I love ya, Tomorrow. You're always a day away...