Fletch is not feeling well.
He’s whiny (more than usual) and running a slight fever. It’s most likely teeth, but now I panic.
He’s finally sleeping AND napping and doing it well. It’s like he’s a new baby. He won’t settle tonight though and is uncomfortable, which tells me he’s not feeling so hot. That and he really didn’t eat much at dinner.
I’m scared. This is the first time that he’s really been sick. I’m writing this with him in my arms as I try to convince myself that he will be ok tonight.
No one likes seeing their child sick. I don’t like where my thoughts go, how paranoid I get. This is what happens. There’s no trust that something awful won’t happen.
I think it’s become worse now that he’s older. Every day we creep closer to him hitting 17 and a half months. I cannot bubble wrap him and stick him in a helmet. He’s going to get sick, he’s going to get hurt, it’s just so tough not to completely fall apart when it happens.
It’s time to pause and just breathe.