The baby was sick the weekend of the big snowstorm. He had a little runny nose and the beginnings of a cough on that Saturday morning, but he was cheerful enough and some of the big boys had just gotten over a cold, so I wasn’t too worried. 

That night he was up frequently with a deep cough and a nose so stuffy that the pacifier was difficult for him. He and I spent the second half of the night in an armchair, where I could prop him up a little while he slept (or didn’t sleep, both of us); propping him up seemed like it would help him breathe better. Sunday was more of the same, but worse—he was totally miserable, and felt like a furnace. I must have taken his temperature twenty times that day, so sure was I that he was well over 100. (Fortunately, despite how hot he was, his temps stayed in the 99.3-99.8 range.) We spent most of Sunday in that same armchair while he slept frequently but for only a few minutes at a time before his cough would wake him up and start him crying again. He hated when I gave him Tylenol and he hated when he sneezed all over himself and I had to clean him up. 

When the kids are sick like this, I live in fear that the next hour will see a turn for the worse. Some parents are comfortable handling even very bad sicknesses on their own, with no help from the doctor; I am not that parent. I have no qualms about calling the pediatrician’s office and talking to the triage nurse about any symptoms the kids are experiencing, and I do so frequently. I’m a huge fan of walk-in hours, and often decide during a rough night to bring the sick little one to the doctor first thing the next morning, “just in case.” I think my biggest fear is misjudging how bad a sickness is or how quickly it’s progressing—I’m afraid of waiting too long to seek help. As a result, I dread weekends when I have a child who is getting sick toward the end of the week; I’ll certainly call the on-call pediatrician and/or bring the child to Urgent Care if needed, but there’s nothing as reassuring as seeing our actual pediatrician in person.

So when the baby was so sick on that Sunday—and not only a Sunday, but a day so snowy that everyone was being encouraged to stay home and not go out in the deepening drifts—I tried not to panic. I reminded myself that I could bring him to the doctor first thing in the morning if need be. We had enough Tylenol. Though he didn’t want to eat, he was happy to have juice, so I made sure he had plenty, whenever he wanted it. We rocked and he slept and woke and slept and woke and cried and coughed and I tried not to think of Diana Barry’s little sister in Anne of Green Gables, who had something that looked and sounded very much like what my own baby was enduring and nearly died because the snow prevented the doctor from getting to her sooner. (A mother’s mind is full of nightmares.)

But then, that night was maybe a little better, and he was a bit more cheerful in the morning, and school was cancelled and my husband’s office closed and the governor declared a state of emergency, so I thought it would be fine to wait another day to bring him to the doctor. Of course, as the morning went on, I started to worry again. He wasn’t as warm as he’d been the day before, but the coughing was worse, and he even threw up once because of it. He also started poking at his ears. By lunchtime I thought the roads didn’t look terrible and the storm seemed to be letting up, so I called the doctor’s office to see if I could get a same-day sick appointment—only to be told they had just closed because of the state of emergency.

What would Ma Ingalls do? I wondered, as I rocked with my crying, coughing baby in the chair that afternoon. I bundled him up and took him for a walk in the stroller, thinking the cold air might be refreshing for him. I gave him a bath, thinking the warm air might loosen his lungs. I gave him juice and more Tylenol. But mostly my husband and I just took turns holding him. We were all so sad.

It wasn’t until a couple of days later that I thought to look up what to do for sick babies, so that the next time I couldn’t get to the doctor when I wanted to, I’d feel more confident about what to do. I found an article by WebMD called “Soothing Your Sick Child,” and its recommendations included: Plenty of liquids, plenty of rest, warm bath, elevate head, TLC (including holding, singing, and taking baby on a walk). Hey! I did all those things! And I was reminded of a few other things for the future (I can’t believe I forgot about the humidifier). I cannot even tell you how reassured I was to read that article.

My default will always be to run to the doctor any time I’m worried about my kids, and I’m so grateful that we’re able to do so. But I’m pretty happy to know that whatever instincts or gut reactions I have as a mom aren’t that far off (at least in this case, and please remember that none of what I said here should be taken as medical advice. Ask your doctor!). (In case you’re worried, I did bring my little guy to the doctor on Tuesday, where he was diagnosed with RSV/bronchiolitis. We continued to rest/snuggle/juice and added in the nebulizer every few hours. He’s doing much better!)

Kate and her husband have seven sons ages 15, 13, 11, 9, 7, 5, and 1. Follow her at www.facebook.com/kmtowne23, or email her at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..