I rolled over in bed one morning, hoping to see Porter’s sleeping face, but was a little disappointed when I realized he wasn’t there. I’d missed him again. He left for work so early and refused to wake me if I was sleeping, claiming that I needed sleep more than he needed a goodbye kiss. Some days I wouldn’t argue with him—I’d take sleep over anything. But today, I missed him and wanted him in our bed.
I was appeased, however, by the sight of Mattie, softly snoring on his side of the bed. Laying in a fort of sorts Porter must have built around her, trying to keep her from rolling off the bed and prevent me from rolling onto her.
I watched her sleep for a moment, captivated by how much I loved her. After a few moments my hand reached out to gently brush her cheek and I was immediately caught by the heat radiating off of her. I sat up quickly and then placed the back of my hand on her forehead and again, gasped at how warm she was. But she wasn’t just warm. She was hot.
“Mattie, sweetheart, what’s the matter?” I asked softly as I lifted her and brought her forehead to my mouth, pressing my lips against her skin only to affirm that, yes, indeed, she was hot. Too hot. She stirred a little, as if I was bothering her, but she didn’t wake up fully. I put her back down on the bed and as I undressed her, the idea being to cool her off, I tried to figure out what one was supposed to do with a three-week-old baby who had a fever.
She was just in her diaper now and I placed her back in her bed fort. I reached for my cell phone and immediately dialed the number for her pediatrician. When the receptionist answered, I explained the situation and she put me on with a nurse who I then explained the situation to again. All the while my hand kept going back to Mattie’s forehead or arm or belly, wishing the fever away. Hoping that I’d feel her again and it would be gone, that I had been wrong all along.
The nurse listened to me and then asked some questions about when she’d eaten last and other baby things. I answered her and then my nerves took over when she finally gave me some instructions.
“The doctor is full this morning with appointments, but your baby needs to be seen soon. Can you take her to an urgent care facility?”
“You think it’s urgent?”
“Yes, sweetie. When babies that young get fevers, it’s urgent.”
“Ok, yes, I can do that.” I said the words, which for all intents and purposes were confident, but I sounded anything but. I sounded scared and worried, because I was. “Where should I take her?”
The nurse gave me directions to the nearest urgent care clinic and once I’d hung up the phone I did my best to dress without having a panic attack. I packed a bag for Mattie, although I could never have told you what was inside that bag. I pulled on some clothes, most of which I believe were clean, but I couldn’t have told you which top I was wearing. My objective was to get my baby to the clinic.
Once we were in the car and headed to our destination, I pushed the button on the console that allowed me to make a call to Porter as I drove. He answered and I immediately heard the familiar sounds of construction: lots of banging and buzzing, sounds of men talking and shouting over equipment.
“Hey, Babe. How’s it going?” He answered, sounding completely worry-free, which he was, but I called to end that.
“Mattie’s sick,” I blurted out, nearly crying as I said the words.
“What?” He asked, as if he hadn’t heard me.
“The baby,” I said louder. “She’s sick.”
“What do you mean sick?” He asked, sounding a little more worried than he had before.
“Sick enough that the nurse at her pediatrician’s office told me to take her to urgent care.”
“What’s wrong with her?” He asked impatiently.
“I don’t know, Porter!” I yelled and then began to cry. I tried not to lose control of my emotions, but I didn’t have any more answers than he did, and I hated not knowing what was wrong with her.
“Ok, Baby, calm down. It’s ok. Everything’s going to be fine. Where are you taking her? I’ll meet you.”
I gave him the information and directions to the clinic and apologized for snapping at him. He told me I didn’t need to apologize to him for anything and that just made me cry even harder.
When I arrived at the clinic, I parked hastily, grabbed her car seat out of the backseat and quickly walked inside. A woman with long brown hair saw me enter and met me halfway into the building.
“Is this Mattie Masters?” The woman asked me.
“Yes,” I answered, trying not to cry in front of a stranger.
“Come back with me. The nurse called and told us to expect her, so we’ve got a room all ready.”
“Thank you,” I managed. I followed her and she led me to an examination room.
“Why don’t you take her out and get her undressed.”
I started taking her out of the car seat and undressing her, a little concerned when she hardly stirred.
“How’d she get that bump on her head?”