This week has been one of those that left me both shaken and reassured all at once. Shaken, because I was reminded just how fragile our little ones can be. Reassured, because I realised, again, that a mother’s instinct is rarely wrong.

It all started a week ago when baby spiked a fever. Nothing I hadn’t seen before. I’ve been through it all with my six-year-old –  the temperatures, the bruises, the endless coughs and colds. I honestly thought I had earned my badge as a veteran mom. So when my little boy’s temperature rose, I medicated him, kept an eye on him while juggling my work deadlines from home, and figured it would settle just as it always had with my older one.

He had a bit of a snotty nose too, which seemed harmless enough. Deep down, though, there was a small whisper telling me to take him to the doctor. But then came the doubts: what if it’s nothing? What if I’m overreacting? I convinced myself to wait it out. After all, the medication seemed to ease his fever, and I didn’t want to be the mom who runs to the doctor for every sniffle.

Fast forward seven days. I fetched him from granny and was met with a sight that made my heart drop, angry, hive-like blotches spreading across his tummy and back. His little body, covered in red patches, looked inflamed and uncomfortable. My mind immediately went to worst-case scenarios.

I rushed home, grabbed a cool cloth and gently pressed it to his skin, hoping to calm the reaction. Out came the purple potjie also known as Epimax, my trusted balm for his eczema, which flares badly at the best of times. I rubbed it onto his blotches while trying to stay calm, even though inside I was panicking. That night I stayed up watching him like a mama hawk, hovering by his bed, ready to scoop him up and rush to the hospital if things worsened.

His dad tried to talk me down, reminding me that kids get sick all the time. My editor even reassured me earlier in the week, saying the same thing: all kids get fevers; don’t overthink it. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just another “kids get sick” moment.

By morning, when the blotches had spread to his little face, I knew I couldn’t ignore that voice inside me anymore. We went straight to the hospital.

The paediatrician gave him a thorough check and, with a calmness I wish I had, explained that everything was going to be okay. The red blotches, he said, were the result of a viral infection working its way through his system. “Did he have a fever or snotty nose?” he asked. “Yes, a week ago,” I answered, replaying every moment in my head.

The doctor explained that the fever and sniffles were the virus’s first act, and the blotchy rash was simply the body’s immune system reacting as the virus exited his system. To me, it sounded both terrifying and fascinating like his little body was fighting a battle I couldn’t see, and these blotches were the evidence of his tiny army at work.

Relief washed over me, but so did guilt. I couldn’t help but think: what if I had listened to my instinct earlier? Maybe it wouldn’t have changed the outcome, but maybe I would have had more peace of mind.

And that’s the lesson this week left me with. Being a mom means constantly balancing between not wanting to overreact and desperately wanting to protect. It means ignoring the noise from others sometimes, whether it’s well-meaning partners, editors, or even your own inner voice telling you not to be dramatic. Our sixth sense, that inner alarm bell, exists for a reason.

So here I am, humbled and reminded. Next time, I will follow that instinct without hesitation. Because when it comes to our babies, no one knows them the way we do. And no one feels their aches and struggles in the marrow of their bones quite like a mother does.

Lesson learned: the mommy instinct is not just a feeling… it’s our superpower.

trcy-lynn.ruiters@inl.co.za

Weekend Argus 

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