Could I get a "98.6" over here, please?

I'm convinced that, at this point in time in my life, there is nothing worse than when my baby isn't feeling well. Sydney woke up with a 101-degree fever this morning. We struggled with lowering it, and keeping it low, all day. It spiked a couple times, with an alarming 103 degrees. I kept pushing the fluids, as well as the liquid Advil fever reducer, but she still went to bed clocking a 101-degree body temperature.
This is not okay with me, and I'm a nervous wreck tonight because of it. For the first time in weeks, she's sleeping in her bed. I figured that she'd be cooler in there without the dogs pressed up against her, and without the extra blanket I keep on my bed. Still, at 10 p.m. tonight, she wandered into the living room with a sweaty head and bleary eyes. I was able to get her back to sleep pretty easily, but I'm still checking on her every 30 minutes. I may sleep on the floor next to her bed tonight.
When I was younger, I may have thought that nothing could be worse than being sick. But my goodness was I wrong. Having a sick baby is much worse.