Another temperature

How can a temperature be a good thing? That's what I asked our pediatrician, my mom, my sisters, my dad. Supposedly a temperatures is the body's way of fighting an infection or illness. I think it's the body's way of shutting down. Rebecca's temp spiked to 102.8 again last night. I was one-hour late in giving her her Motrin (I thought I would let her sleep instead of waking her) and that's what happened. Rebecca couldn't eat, couldn't cry, couldn't lay her head on my chest. She was "floppy" and so so so sad.

My barrier walls went up again. I was mad at myself for not just waking Rebecca and giving her her medicine. I was mad that it's been 3 days of continued temperatures and everyone thinks it's OK. I was mad that I seemed to be the only one affected by Rebecca's situation. I was mad at everyone for not making my baby better. I snipped at Tony and barked orders. My actions towards him were like the looks Rebecca kept giving me: "Why won't you fix this?"

Rebecca tried her best to lay on my chest while I kept a cold washcloth on her forehead. She hadn't eaten since 4:30pm and it was now 8:30pm. I wouldn't have been so concerned, except that her diaper was dry and I was worried that she would get dehydrated and even sicker. We worked on the bottle for 1/2 hour, finally eating 4 oz (not the best, but it was something). I kept her with me until her temp dropped to 99.8. She was miserable and overly-tired. I propped her up on a pillow in her crib and layed her on her side, hoping that it would help her cough, sore throat, and congestion.

2am and we're up again. It's time for Motrin and we're going to try and eat some more. Another dry diaper. Tony took this feeding for me, although I just sat in bed listening to Rebecca wimper and try to cry with her horse voice. I had to overcome the feelings of running into her room and snatching her from Tony. I used to think that no one could care for my babies like I did, and that no one could sense their needs. However, after sitting in bed listening to Rebecca cry, I heard Tony shushing her and telling her its going to be OK. That's the only thing that can be done - that's what I would have done too.

I hate not knowing what is going on. I hate being vulnerable. I hate having my babies be sick. I hate having flashbacks of our NICU months and worrying that we'll be back there if they don't get better. My heart raced when our pediatrician did Rebecca's stats and they were low - I reverted back to our NICU room with the monitors and the beeping and me turning up Rebecca & Mary-Gail's O2 because they were too low, and me monitoring their monitors and making sure their hearts weren't racing and...I hate that I feel like I'm hovering over those that want to help. I hate that I feel like I can't let them help. I hate I feeling like I can't do anything for them. I hate that I can't make it better. I hate that I can't take their pain and suffering away from them. I hate the word hate.

My girls have got to get better. I told Tony that we need to give them a blessing tomorrow. I think I need one too.