Last week my little man was feeling under the weather. He appeared to pick up Monday and Tuesday, but it turns out it was the calm before the storm. On Wednesday he had one spot, a few more on Thursday and by Friday he was covered. Chicken pox!
Hearing your child sobbing in discomfort whilst crying “mummy, help me!” is absolutely heartbreaking. I followed the advice; bathed him in porridge oats, covered him in soothing gel and gave him Calpol, but there is no magic cure. We’ve just got to wait it out.
Yesterday was the worst day and all he wanted was to sit on my knee and have cuddles. It felt like I had a newborn again, lay in my arms with his face buried into my chest. I know I can’t stop the itching and take the spots away but I can give him the reassurance that his mummy is here, and that she loves him very much.