On Christmas morning, my toddler developed a bubbly rash on her bottom along with a fever, prompting my partner to take her to the pediatrician. I received a text from the doctor’s office: “She has hand, foot, and mouth disease.” With three children under nine, this was our first encounter with HFMD. For those unfamiliar with this viral illness (and I sincerely hope you never experience it), HFMD is incredibly unpleasant. It can persist for up to two weeks, is highly contagious, and can cause significant discomfort. The rashes can evolve into blisters, some of which may even develop under the fingernails, leading to potential loss.
The mere thought of all three of my kids suffering from rashes, blisters, and missing fingernails was overwhelming. By the time my partner returned home from the doctor’s visit, I was already busy shampooing the carpet and washing sheets in an effort to contain the virus.
My partner walked in carrying our daughter, Lily, who was now showing red bumps around her mouth. Her blue eyes appeared glassy, and she kept flexing her hands as if they were numb. She looked like she had been crying, and my instinct was to comfort her. Yet, I hesitated to touch her.
I had recently been watching a series that portrayed dystopian scenarios, including torture techniques involving nail removal. The thought of it haunted me. This is one of the more difficult aspects of parenting; if my partner had contracted HFMD, I would have maintained my distance, offering compassion without physical contact. But with my children, I had no choice; even if they had the bubonic plague, I still needed to hold them.
Lily approached me with a painful gait due to her rash-covered feet and tugged at my pant leg. I hesitated before picking her up. This exemplifies the challenge of caring for a sick child. Despite being messy and unwell, a parent instinctively provides comfort and support, hoping to avoid being infected while caring for them.
My partner handed me a list of over-the-counter treatments recommended by the doctor. “What is this?” I asked, feeling frustrated. “It’s a virus,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “She’s not even two yet. They can’t give us anything.” For children under two, parents are often limited to Tylenol and Motrin—neither of which provides significant relief.
I spent the rest of the day making trips to Walgreens, the only pharmacy in our small town open on Christmas, gathering everything from ointments to replacement toothbrushes and bath toys—items that Lily may have put in her mouth recently. I felt guilty shopping on a holiday but was grateful that at least one store was available.
The next few nights were among the most challenging of my parenting journey. My partner and I took shifts caring for Lily. Her rashes developed into blisters, and a few days in, I prepared her for a bath and noticed one of the blisters on her bottom peeling. When I pulled on a loose flap of skin, a sizable patch came off with it.
My partner entered the room, staring at the skin in my hand with confusion. “What happened?” she asked. I could only shrug. Lily stood there naked and vulnerable, her blonde hair tousled at the back. She looked at me with watery eyes, as if I had betrayed her by peeling off her skin. Clutching a stuffed orange cat from her Christmas stocking, she snatched it from me and wailed as she waddled off to the tub, her red, raw bottom exposed.
That night, she lost a bit more skin from her hands and feet, but thankfully, by the following day, she began to show signs of improvement. It wasn’t a sudden change but a gradual recovery.
About two weeks after the onset of the illness, while I cleaned the living room, I heard her laughter for the first time in days. I was exhausted from sleepless nights and had returned to work recently. My partner was in the kitchen, and our other two children were occupied in their rooms. Miraculously, we had all managed to avoid infection.
When I made eye contact with Lily, she dramatically leaned back, holding her tummy, and erupted into laughter. I hadn’t realized how much I missed her joy until that moment. Over the previous days, she had expressed a range of emotions—anger, sadness, lethargy—but joy had been absent.
There’s something profoundly gratifying about seeing one’s children happy. The absence of that joy can feel like a void that cannot be filled. Witnessing a sick child is heartbreaking; they often don’t smile or play, leaving parents longing to see their happiness restored.
I scooped Lily up into my arms and said, “Looks like you’re feeling better.” She responded with some gibberish and laughed again, warming my heart. I embraced her tightly. That night, she slept more soundly than before, and while she began to lose her fingernails the next day, it seemed to cause her no pain. After that delightful laugh, she appeared to be free from discomfort, and despite my minimal role in her care, I felt a deep sense of satisfaction as she began to recover.
For more information on improving fertility and supporting your journey, consider exploring these fertility supplements. Additionally, if you’re interested in at-home insemination options, check out this 18-piece kit. For comprehensive insights into pregnancy and home insemination, visit Johns Hopkins Medicine’s Fertility Center.
In summary, hand, foot, and mouth disease can be a challenging experience for both children and parents. The emotional toll it takes during a child’s illness is significant, but witnessing their recovery can bring immense joy and relief.
Keyphrase: hand, foot, and mouth disease parenting experience
Tags: [“home insemination kit”, “home insemination syringe”, “self insemination”]