..as if my heart had been ripped from my chest

Zane is in the process of his first real illness, tonight. He's been uncharacteristically cuddly today, but stupid me, I just thought it was some new developmental thing. We both had a stomache bug of some sort for a few days but he seemed better today, and so did I.

After a dinner of sweet potatoes (which he barely even looked at, let alone eating it) he went right to sleep. Somewhere around 10, I checked him and noticed he was warm. I thought nothing of it, as I was also a bit warm, and he was covered in a blanket. A bit later, I noticed he was still rather warm, maybe even moreso. So, I took his temperature, and found his temp to be 102.9, so I called the doctor. She (apparently, very annoyed to be awakened at 11:00 PM) said to give him some motrin and call back in the morning.

Meanwhile, my heart is breaking. He's had sniffles and jaundice and all kinds of little things, but this is the first time he's been truely ill. He was moaning and coughing and crying and I could do nothing to help him. When the motrin finally kicked in, he went right to sleep, but I on the other-hand, am not likely to be sleeping much at all. I am too worried about him.

I don't like this parenting business. It makes my heart hurt.