Week of July 30, 2003
"I want hold hands and go outside."Owen tailored his request to me to go outside. Scott's much more of a sucker to drop everything and run outside when Owen asks, but he had to work a little harder with me and he knew just what would work. He looked at me with his beautiful blue eyes and said "I want hold hands and go outside." Awwww. It worked like a charm.
Owen started to get sick at the end of last week, eating very little on Thursday night. "Molars!" we thought, looking at him suck on his fingers. He woke with a low grade fever, and was a bit clingy, but overall seemed like himself. We dropped him off with instructions for Diane to call us if he got worse or was unhappy. He had a bad day at daycare on Friday, and was a bit clingy, but Diane didn't feel it was bad enough to call us. He ate and slept little, and his fingers were in his mouth a lot. But a bad day at daycare turned into 4 days without really eating or sleeping. We were all so spent!
Owen seemed to be okay on Saturday morning, and we went to Bernardston as previously planned, hoping to leave him with Scott's parents while we went to lunch in Vermont. (Or, failing that, we hoped to give them a chance to visit with him.) Owen was very unhappy when we arrived, and proceeded to get more unhappy. Thomas failed to sooth him. Going outside failed to distract him. (Winnie had cleaned the birdbath in case he stuck his finger in it the way he did last visit. My god, you can eat off the inside of her light fixtures. Does she do nothing but clean? Poor thing, she's fretting about making the birdbath clean while we spend our time telling Owen to stop licking the rocks at the park. Our standards are so different. She's Felix, we're Oscar.)
While we were outside, Owen did his trick of running to the car, and grabbing the handle to his door. He clearly wanted to get in the car and drive away. We knew he was sick, but part of us was worried that he was on to the fact we were planning on leaving him there. We had already abandoned that plan before he tried to make a break for it. Is he always going to be so anxious to get away? What can we do to make these visits more enjoyable for him? Ed and Winnie obviously love him, and want to stand on their heads, but they're older now, and Winnie is preoccupied since Ed's stroke. They're not the same grandparents they were for the other grandkids, how could they be? But I fear that Owen needs adults who try hard to relate to him on his level, and who balance warmth and interactiveness with letting him dictate what he wants. I dunno, maybe we just dote too much. Winnie is dying to hold him, and as Diane says, Owen is not a cuddly child. He saves his cuddles for me, not even Scott gets them very often. He's cagey with his feelings and expressions of love, I wonder how this will evolve over time.
Owen got worse and worse, and we found our visit to the grandparents cut short by sobs we could barely talk through. We gave up, apologized to Ed and Winnie, and fled. A bad visit all around.
Of course, the worst part was a few minutes down the road, Owen's sobs ceased. He got what he wanted? Or is it just that being sick, he had no patience for anything extra at all. Hard to say, but we were grateful he wasn't sobbing all the way home. He did go on to have 4-5 meltdowns in the next 24 hours, 30-90 minutes of inconsolable crying. He didn't want us near him, yet we couldn't leave either. Nothing we could do helped, it was horrible. Scott and I were barely speaking by the middle of the night, prostrate with tension and fatigue. We spent many nights getting 3-4 hours of sleep, broken up into small bits. Just like the old days! But adding unbelievable, inconsolable weeping to the lack of sleep was particularly tough, on all of us. We felt helpless.
Sunday, we were so broken, we opted to get him an appointment at Urgent care. Four days of Owen not eating were making us edgy. I think they were a bit worried about his inconsolable crying, and Owen's throat was raw. The pediatrician referred us to the emergency room, so that Owen could get bloodwork done. The doctor made a gallant effort of examining him during a meltdown, but it was impossible to calm him down even in the waiting room (she tried going out there to examine him!). Part of me is worried this is his reaction to medical exams in general, but usually he calms down in the waiting room. At least she ruled out strep for us, and cared enough to get him bloodwork. Going to the emergency room with a wailing child was not pretty for any of us.
Many hours of inconsolable crying later, we got the final verdict from the bloodtests "virus" - why did we even go? I guess because we were worried that it was something more serious, the way it was escalating. And I was getting worried about his fluids. 5 kidney beans wasn't a lot to last him all day long, and he'd given up milk completely. Fortunately the doctor at the emergency room felt he was in reasonable shape, physically, although he said they'd be worried if it continued another day without improvement.
There wasn't much they could do at the emergency room, but they gave him an anti-nausea suppository, and he actually had dinner that night and slept relatively well. Would he have improved if we hadn't gone??! Was it the horror of being in the doctor's office that scared him into improving? I guess the only good part to the visit was that he got himself so exhausted, that he slept for 1 ½ hours in my arms while we waited for the bloodwork. Oh, and he discovered that popsicles feel good when your throat hurts. And we learned that blood drawing is a lot easier when there are 5 of us holding him down, and one person drawing the blood. It's funny how many health professionals comment on his strength. Nothing like trying to work with a struggling toddler, they all must dread it. The hour and a half of him struggling desperately to get out of my arms and out of the room wasn't pretty.
This all took place over the course of Sunday, and pretty much screwed up any hope I had of doing something special for Maggie's birthday.
Monday arrived and Owen was in great shape after he woke up. We were optimistic, but he failed the Rao's test, his improvement was short-lived. He had no interest in running around or even being in the stroller, and he was fussy and unwilling to do anything outside at all. We nixed our fantasy that he was better, and split the day staying home with him. We were glad to give him the extra TLC. Funny how wrenching it is to have one's child push you away, especially when they so desperately need you at the same time. Owen was so upset with me in the midst of his unhappiness at one point that I moved into the other room just to give him space (still in eyeshot though). He was taken aback by my removal, and I think that actually helped him get through his tears. A short way into my email, he was calling my name.
He improved over the course of the week, but it took a few days for all of us to recoup. We felt hung-over from our lack of sleep, but slowly got back to normal. Unfortunately, work is stressful for both Scott and I, and it promises to get steadily worse as we approach school beginning. Each day we get home exhausted, and struggle just to get the essentials done. We're grateful that Owen is feeling better, though, and it's wonderful to see him smiling again.
Next week we have our trip to Maine. 5 days on a little island on a lake, without running water or electricity. We're staying in a house with my brother and his family, with the hope that Owen will bond with his youngest cousin, 5 months younger than he. We're scared, but crossing our fingers. 25 family members from my father's first family, I'm going to meet some nieces I've never known. One is college age! We've all signed up for a great adventure, we'll see how it works out!
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