It took fifteen months, but Freya has her first fever. I realize that we are fortunate that it took this long. She’s had one (maybe two?) 24-hour sniffle attacks before this. In general she is an exceptionally healthy baby. I am filled to the brim with gratitude for that.

Anyway I woke up at 4am this morning and held her close. I noticed that her hand felt hot. I wondered if it was because she had been laying on it. I felt her other hand, then her foot, then her head. All hot. She wasn’t crying or showing any other symptoms. I let her nurse a while, then she delatched and said “mama. mama.” Brian went downstairs to fetch her water bottle and the ear thermometer.

She drank some water (so glad she loves water), and then I attempted to take her temp with the ear thermometer. I don’t really trust that thing. I tested it on myself: 99 degrees. Ok whatever. Finally got a read on Freya: 102. As I suspected. We all lay back down and I gave her more milk. She went to sleep with her back to me. I love to spoon my little one.

I had dreams after that, of being in a small airplane with her and Brian while it rained outside. Then a dream of being at the doctor with her and taking her temp a few times until it read normal. This definitely got right into my subconscious.

She’s still warm, I am letting her sleep as long as she likes. When she wakes up, more water, then I’ll offer her something good to eat, like apple sauce. I hope she has an appetite. We do have a doc appointment Monday, hopefully this thing will have run its course by then.

This makes me so glad we co-sleep. If she was off in a crib in another room, I would have had no idea at all. She’s not old enough to articulate that anything’s wrong. When she’s older and in her own bed, it will be easy for her to call out for me and tell me she doesn’t feel good.