If I walk into Delaney's room tomorrow and she's not back to her normal self, I don't know what I'm going to do. It's like aliens stole the real Delaney and left us with this sad, whiny, not eating or drinking, tired all the time, sometimes feverish imposter.
I think the beginning was Friday afternoon, when we were at the pool, and she told me she wanted to go home at least a half hour before I was going to tell her it was time. What? Delaney never tells me she wants to go home. And her friend Charlie was there, and I thought she was happy. But she acted like she couldn't bear the cold once she got out of the big pool, and she was just ready to go home. So we went home, where we all sat down for pizza, which she didn't eat. That didn't worry me since it's unusual that she does eat it. But later, she whined and whimpered through the bath time and dressing process, acting like she was too cold. I wished I could have had a towel fresh out of the dryer for her, but I didn't. I got her dressed as quickly as I could and tucked her into bed. She slept fine.
Saturday morning, she had a bit of a fever. She just laid on the couch, sleepy and sad. She didn't drink her "yummy drink" (Carnation Instant Breakfast). I don't remember much about Saturday, just low-grade fever and lots of sleepiness, and not much eating or drinking at all. I gave her a popsicle at one point, and she ate most of it. She kept waking up crying, so Tim ended up spending the night on her floor. I expected she'd be fine in the morning.
Sunday was more of the same. Sometimes we'd see glimpses of the real Delaney. Tim said she was fine when he took her to the commissary. But then she'd go back to being sad. Everything she said came out a whine. Anytime her sister came near her, she cried. All she wanted to do was sit and stare zombie-eyed at the TV.
This morning, I thought maybe she was finally snapping out of it. She seemed cheerful. Between last night and this morning, she'd had two cups of water. She drank her "yummy drink" in the morning. But after that, no more. I took her outside to ride her tricycle on the driveway. She ended up just crying over something stupid like she couldn't move it. I have offered her so many things today, and she's refused. We keep asking her "What's wrong?" "What hurts?" The answer is always "Nuffing." For a little while we thought she might be running a low fever. In the evening, the little girl next door came over and played for a little while, and she went back to her old cheerful self for awhile. This brought on a tidal wave of mom guilt for me, since I know that I haven't been giving her many opportunities to socialize. I've kind of given up since we're moving in less than two weeks, even though I sometimes get lonely too. We wondered if that wasn't the source of the whole sickness, but decided it probably wasn't. At least not all of it.
I just went into her room again, because she was crying her heart out. It was probably the fifth or sixth time one or the other of us has been in there tonight. Now she's OCD about her quilt being tucked into the mattress on both sides now. I tucked her in again even though we'd both told her before that we weren't going to do it again. Then I sat beside her bed until she fell asleep on her Pillow Pet, her sippy of water in one hand and a stuffed bunny in the other.
I just don't know what I'm going to do if our old Delaney isn't restored to us by morning. Tim and I are so stressed out we can't relax. This is so bizarre. I tried Googling "sad, sick, lethargic three year old girl," again and again, changing the adjectives to see if anyone out there can help me. Here are some results I got: "Lethargic three-year-old Pekingese pup," "depressed teen," and postpartum depression. I guess we're on our own.
Tim has 24-hour duty tomorrow, so I will be coping on my own if she's still in her funk. It's like a dark cloud has descended on our household. Her sad eyes make me so sad. I told Tim that on one hand, I want to give her hugs and kisses, and extra TLC. Then there are the times I think she's perfectly fine, just milking it, and I want to say to her, "Fine, go sulk in the corner. I have no more patience for this."
It's been a tough three days. I'm praying that my old Delaney will be back in the morning talking my ear off while I try to drink my coffee.