My son was ill two nights ago. He was cutting a tooth, a molar, and cutting teeth makes him ill. His pediatrician says that when babies get teeth, all they get are teeth, but I am unconvinced. When Adam gets teeth, he stops eating, he gets the runs, he gets a mild fever, and no medicine makes him better.
What's worse is that the tooth doesn't come out in one go. It's like an iceberg. Only the pearly white tip can be seen, surrounded by pink gums. The molar is the iceberg that sank the Titanic!
Adam wont open his mouth to show me the offending mass, so I have to wait till he starts bawling. Then with him in my arms, I have to contort my neck into a most unnatural position, angle his open maw towards the light, trying to ignore the ringing in my ears from the huge volume of sound coming from his body, all the while making soft crooning sounds and offering platitudes, hoping to calm him down. I imagine our exchange goes somewhat like this:
Me: It's all right baby...
Adam: Waaaaaaaah (No it certainly is not all right)
Me: Everything going to be OK...
Adam: Waaaaaaah (Really? How so?)
Me: Rock a bye baby on the tree top...
Adam: WAAAAAAH (WILL YOU STOP THAT INFERNAL RACKET)
Me: Ok hush now. I love you... I've got you...
Adam: Sniff... (That's better. I love you too. Just hold me.)
No medicine works on him when he's teething. Only I can make him feel better... I hold him, kiss his forehead and love him as much as I can. If he falls asleep, I go pee or eat or stretch...
I also give him Biochem #21. I think all mothers must have a bottle in their arsenal. Think of it as Magic in a bright yellow and red bottle... The last year has gone by in periods of 'teething' and between 'teething'. BC21 helped keep my sanity.
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