Fever

Fever is one of those things that makes me anxious. Laurel had a fever of 102.6 degrees tonight, which really makes me anxious.

I am not nearly as anxious as I was two years ago, however, when Isaac was two years old and had a fever of 100.8. Back then I was really worried, on the brink of panic, but after a few years of parenting, I've grown to learn that's a relatively low temperature! Actually, Isaac seemed much sicker at that temperature than Laurel did tonight. Perhaps Isaac just feels worse with a low-grade fever than Laurel does? Or maybe she runs a high fever easily, without actually being that sick? Luckily she hasn't been sick that often, so it's not like I've really tested this hypothesis. She did have a 103-degree fever when she was eight months old, though, and her mood wasn't that adversely affected. Compare that to Easter this year when Isaac was melting down at a fever of just 100.6 degrees. He wouldn't even eat pie.

So what about Laurel tonight? Late in the afternoon she seemed uncharacteristically cranky, and I had to work hard to entertain her. (With her, any cranky is uncharacteristic!) I thought she felt a little warm, but not alarmingly so. When I nursed her right before dinner she surprised me by falling asleep briefly. By then she felt very warm, although she ate her dinner with enthusiasm. Even after we took her temperature as 102.6 degrees, she was playful and listened to her bedtime books fairly cheerfully.

We gave her Tylenol around 7:15 p.m., and she felt cooler to the touch by the time she fell asleep at 8:00 p.m. Now I am debating whether to sneak in and feel her forehead before I go to bed myself. That's exactly what I wanted to do when Isaac had that fever two years ago. Maybe I haven't grown as a parent after all.