Thursday, March 28, 2013

When the sh*t (and vomit) hits the fan...

So just when I thought my last blog post was messy, I woke at 3am that very night to find that Beau had vomited in his bed.  He had rice cereal and carrots (those darned carrots again!) dried and matted into his hair and his sleep sack was completely crusty.  Poor little guy!  I didn't know if it was just a big spit up/refluxy type throw-up or if he was actually sick.  I fed him as usual but within about 10 minutes it was all over me. And about 10 minutes later, all over me again... and beau.. and the bed...  I woke Andy and we called the nurse's line for instructions.  I felt a little nervous... one of the things I've feared most in the whole baby-getting-sick-department was the stomach flu. (Our neighbors also had the stomach flu so I had a feeling this was where we were headed). Keeping an infant hydrated is scary when they can't keep anything down and aren't old enough to understand that they need to try and drink a little.  They also aren't old enough to understand that when they're hungry and just want to gobble it up, that mommy has to pull her breast away after only a few short minutes so that it will actually stay down. Breaks my heart.

So yesterday was filled with lots and lots of vomit, lots and lots of soiled laundry (which I've yet to tackle completely), lots of timing and notating when he last ate, how long he ate, when he last vomited etc.  We also had a full day of cuddly naps together which was the highlight of my day.... shoot that would be the highlight of my day any day.  There's nothing better than a cuddly baby diving in to your chest for some nuzzle love and in those moments I'm just so grateful.  Grateful he's mine, and that he's fighting this, and that I get to be the person he wants to cuddle up to (enjoying that one while I can!), and grateful that I don't have a house full of sick kiddos.  (How do you do this with multiple?!?)

Oddly enough, when Beau was awake he was so happy!  Babbling, squealing, laughing, and full of life.  This was a huge sigh of relief.  Most of the morning came and went without the large vomit episodes that we'd had before, but just before 2pm I tried a little pedialyte and the vomit hit the fan.  All over the floor, all over my hands in an attempt to catch it, all over the burp cloths while trying to wipe it up.... and then the dry heaving, bile, "adult-like" vomits began  :(  I called the dr again and they had me come in for some anti-nausea medication to try and help him stop vomiting too much.  At this point he had a low-grade fever... 100.4 at home, then 100.7 at the Dr's office.  She warned me that diarrhea would likely follow but assured me that Beau looked well hydrated and was hanging in like a trooper.

Most of the evening came and went with no vomiting, though one of the dogs decided to barf in the hallway just to feel like she was still part of the family.  (What's up with the dogs bodily presents in the hallway the last 2 days?!) We continued our hourly "snack" to try and keep his milk down, but around 11pm he woke, fed, and up it came.  Damn it!  I thought/hoped/prayed that the vomiting part was behind us.  So we gave him his anti-nausea medicine and a tylenol suppository rectally for his fever and mama cuddled him some more.  He woke periodically throughout the night for some more little snacks, and my breasts were so large and lumpy and painful from not getting a full feed in all day that I had to finally just sit and hand express them into a breast pad.  It was like having bricks as breast implants.  Heavy and hard, that shit just plain hurts when you want to lay on your tummy to sleep!  But hey, small problems when your little one is sick.  Watching him go through that is one of the hardest things ever... you desperately wish you could take it for them, but at the same time you're praying incessantly that this nasty bug doesn't slam down on you too... the person who has to hold down the fort and run this whole mommy operation!  As I went to bed last night, I felt a little "eh".  I showered to get the layers upon layers of sour off of me and hoped that my queasiness was actually from one too many rows (yes I side rows) of gluten-free, dairy-free, soy-free oreo-look-alike dry-crumbly-cookie type things.  Imagining those coming back up wasn't helping matters either.

This morning we woke and neither of us had puked through the night, so that was a relief.  We're still feeding cautiously to try and keep everything down.  But just when I sat to take a little breath, the explosive diarrhea began.  One loud sploodge and I knew we'd had a blow out.  Yep... all up the back again, not muddy this time, but instead we had what I like to call "ass pee" dripping down his leg while I'm whisking him off to the bedroom before it could get everywhere. I actually remembered to put down a changing pad this time!  About an hour or so later though, the changing pad didn't matter... I laid him down to change an even bigger blow out and decided to check his temperature while I was at it (rectally).  While the thermometer was taking it's sweet ass (pun intended) time, I suddenly got sprayed fully with a forceful geyser of ass pee... all over my pants, all over the bed (through the changing pad onto the sheets), and his poor sleep sack soaked again.  I heard myself just saying aloud, "okay...oh gosh. its' okay... don't worry, it's ok" (I'm telling Beau this, but I think I'm really trying to self soothe or something.)  So now I'm stripping my hot, wet pants off with one hand while keeping another on Beau who is laying in a warm puddle of ass pee.  Feeling a strong sense of deja vu, I hoist the wet naked baby into one arm and head straight for the bath.  This bath had to be quick... the whole time I was washing him, I could see he was pushing and I was just waiting for the yellow cloud to burst into the water, or the towel the second I got him out, but thankfully this time we made a clean getaway.

The whole house stinks.  I feel like I need a Hazmat suit to disinfect this petri dish of a home, but I guess I'm already knee deep in it so I may as well just keep trudging onward.  And I realize I'm not the only one (once again) who's ever had a sick baby, or been covered in vomit or doodoo, or had a slippery baby in one arm and their pants around their ankles while stumbling to the bathroom, but it's the first time for me to be juggling all of this while trying to keep down those fake oreos.  So it's monumental in my book.  And one day I know I'll look back and laugh. For now, please God make my baby better and if I've earned an extra prayer, please keep my oreos down.  Amen.

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