temperature reached 104.1.
I called the pediatrician again.
This time she didn’t hesitate.
“Take her directly to the ER.”
I woke Ethan.
“June’s fever is 104. We need to go.”
He was barely awake.
But he got up.
We dressed.
He drove.
And by around two in the morning, we were sitting in the emergency-room waiting area with our four-month-old daughter screaming in my arms.
It wasn’t her hungry cry.
It wasn’t her tired cry.
It was the cry of a baby whose body felt wrong and who had
