Mellow is sadly, pathetically, lethargically ill. My poor baby who usually devours anything we put in front of her has hardly eaten in the last few days. Yesterday we managed to get her to eat some pasta at lunch, and we were very happy about it, until twenty minutes later when the completely undigested pasta and a lot of smelly liquid ended up all over my clothing.
I am fortunate that Mellow is still nursing. She’s not at risk of dehydration or starvation, because she has spent the last four days snuggled up on me and nursing. Sometimes she would just sit and stare, resting her little head against my chest. She was so sad looking, and so different from the happy chirpy baby that we are used to having.
I’m afraid she is losing weight. She looked so tiny and fragile tonight, but she had more energy tonight too. She had enough energy to pick up a mallet and swing it at her sister (that caused exactly the amount of drama one would expect Wildling to produce, but don’t worry, she calmed down after five minutes. I shudder to think how long the screaming would have lasted had Mellow actually hit her, rather than just waving the mallet from three feet away).
I called the doctor’s office on Friday, and because there is no fever, they were unconcerned. I will call again tomorrow.
This is one of the hardest parts of parenting: worrying about your child. I’m sure she just has a little stomach bug, I’m sure she’s going to be fine soon, but part of my mind always jumps to the worst conclusions. Maybe it’s cancer. Maybe it’s meningitis. Maybe it’s some horrible deathly disease that the pediatrician hasn’t even heard of and won’t be able to diagnose properly until it’s too late. But I know those are irrational thoughts. Mellow just has an upset tummy, a little virus. She’ll be fine in the next couple of days.