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rivkaPoor Alex is having a rough week for health. Tuesday morning she woke up with a diaper rash. I immediately started treating it with Balmex, but it only got worse. By last night, it was a livid, angry red. She screamed every time we touched it.
I called my parents, and they immediately diagnosed the problem as a yeast rash. (Later net research suggests that they were going by location (in folds and creases, rather than places with direct diaper contact), bright red color, and the stark border between rash and no-rash areas.) They recommended using a yeast-infection cream as well as Balmex, and washing her with plain water instead of baby wipes. (Apparently wipes contain alcohol. Poor little baby, I was putting alcohol on raw skin.) They also said that if she didn't improve with a couple doses of yeast medicine, we should take her to the doctor.
Michael fed and changed her at midnight, and applied the two medicines. He had closed the bedroom door and taken her downstairs. But her screams were so piercingly loud, so agonizingly distressed, that not only did I wake up, I nearly flew out of my skin. She sounded like she was being stabbed. I tried to lie in bed and withstand it - I knew Michael was taking good care of her - but I couldn't. I had to go downstairs. I found them just finishing up, and hovered while he settled on the couch with her, cuddling close and giving her a bottle. Then I went back upstairs. But I didn't start to relax until my baby was next to me in bed where I could wrap my arms around her, and I didn't settle down enough to feel like I could sleep for almost an hour. That cry dumped a week's worth of cortisol into my system, in a way that her hungry and overtired cries don't. My body was convinced that my baby was in danger.
She woke me up at five. I gave her a bottle and took her downstairs to change her, closing the door in an attempt to protect Michael's sleep. It turned out that I could've changed her right in the bedroom. She accepted the cleanup and the medicated creams without a whimper, eyes fixed on her teddy bear mobile. The worst scarlet patches were still there, but in other places her skin had already faded to pink. I changed her again at 7:30, and again she seemed to feel no pain. So we're going to keep on with the yeast medicine. I'm watching carefully to see if she needs to go to the doctor, but for right now I feel like she's turned the corner. God, I hope so. Poor little girl.
I called my parents, and they immediately diagnosed the problem as a yeast rash. (Later net research suggests that they were going by location (in folds and creases, rather than places with direct diaper contact), bright red color, and the stark border between rash and no-rash areas.) They recommended using a yeast-infection cream as well as Balmex, and washing her with plain water instead of baby wipes. (Apparently wipes contain alcohol. Poor little baby, I was putting alcohol on raw skin.) They also said that if she didn't improve with a couple doses of yeast medicine, we should take her to the doctor.
Michael fed and changed her at midnight, and applied the two medicines. He had closed the bedroom door and taken her downstairs. But her screams were so piercingly loud, so agonizingly distressed, that not only did I wake up, I nearly flew out of my skin. She sounded like she was being stabbed. I tried to lie in bed and withstand it - I knew Michael was taking good care of her - but I couldn't. I had to go downstairs. I found them just finishing up, and hovered while he settled on the couch with her, cuddling close and giving her a bottle. Then I went back upstairs. But I didn't start to relax until my baby was next to me in bed where I could wrap my arms around her, and I didn't settle down enough to feel like I could sleep for almost an hour. That cry dumped a week's worth of cortisol into my system, in a way that her hungry and overtired cries don't. My body was convinced that my baby was in danger.
She woke me up at five. I gave her a bottle and took her downstairs to change her, closing the door in an attempt to protect Michael's sleep. It turned out that I could've changed her right in the bedroom. She accepted the cleanup and the medicated creams without a whimper, eyes fixed on her teddy bear mobile. The worst scarlet patches were still there, but in other places her skin had already faded to pink. I changed her again at 7:30, and again she seemed to feel no pain. So we're going to keep on with the yeast medicine. I'm watching carefully to see if she needs to go to the doctor, but for right now I feel like she's turned the corner. God, I hope so. Poor little girl.
