Coughy In Bed
We're on our 4th consecutive night of my poor little baby daughter suffering from some sort of
black magic induced irritating cough that is not allowing her to sleep. It's not a bad cough - meaning, there's nothing horribly wrong with her - at least according to our ped. In fact, he says her lungs are clear and no prescriptions are needed. He said to just ride it out and see if we can find an OTC drug to relieve her symptoms until this [apparent] viral thing passes. Well, thanks a bunch, dude. I guess I was expecting some miracle treatment or trick to ease the coughing. No, that would require something other than a mail-order degree in medicine.
We're pretty much left to our own devices. We've already bought the infant medicine aisle looking for help to no avail. This, after dismissing the recent study on the apparent ineffectiveness of common cough medicines, as mentioned in Jason's recent post. We've found nothing that'll let my little baby lie down in peace for any measurable length of time without coughing and coughing and coughing. And that's just the medicine route. We've tried the other stuff too - vaporizers, humidifiers, vapo rubs, propping her up and even came [this] close to throwing a virgin in a volcano. Nothing.
She wants so bad to sleep well but the cough just rattles her body. She is delirious from lack of rest. She has huge bags under her eyes, constant lethargy, no appetite and the subsequent pissy neediness that comes with that package.
Of course, this means we're exhausted too. My wife is a dead woman walking from dealing with her during the day. The baby is a frickin' handful for her right now. I have her at night which is a completely different animal, yet, no less taxing. I whittle each minute away, unable to rest, anticipating and eventually cringing at every hack as the clock ticks on without me. This week is the worst bout of sleeplessness I've experienced since her birth. I was so emaciated this morning trying to get ready for work that I threw up. I shit you not.
The worst part, though, is the thought of how horribly miserable my baby must be. I usually hold a stiff upper lip for most everything. But, for some reason, this is really pulling on my heart strings. I lay there next to her just wishing I could absorb whatever it is she's got going on inside so she can finally get back to her old, mischievous self. I miss her.