Remember when I wrote that post about certain events in the first couple years of your child’s life that make you think, ‘wow, I am officially a parent now’? Yeah, I can add two more to that list: being both puked and peed on in the space of a single weekend. As I told Greg, it’s a good thing we have a toddler, or that sentence would have been really weird.
Here’s what happened:
The weekend started out pretty well. Zoey was willing to allow Greg and I to get stuff done around the house on Saturday while she played near us and the three of us watched the Syracuse game on TV in the afternoon. I even made supper. And cookies (I KNOW. I was rocking the domestic responsibilities). It was a pretty great day and Greg and I made plans to do our normal weekly errands and do more stuff around the house on Sunday and everything was great.
Then Saturday night, Zoey was pretty restless in her own bed and ended up sleeping with us because she just couldn’t seem to settle down. No big deal–until around two or so in the morning when she started coughing and whining and after puzzling about what might be the problem, Greg got her into a sitting position and I turned on the lamp on my nightstand just in time for her to throw up all over her pajamas.
Well, that was unexpected.
She started crying because she, being not even two yet, doesn’t understand the whole puking thing and I think it scared her. It wasn’t a whole lot, but it was enough for Greg and I to think, ‘huh, that’s weird’. She’s never really puked before. She didn’t even spit up much as a baby. So, this was different. But we cleaned her up, cuddled with her to calm her down and we all went back to bed.
And then it happened again at three or so in the morning. Ditto around five.
Still, it was more of a spit up amount and after the third time, she settled down and fell asleep. So, we didn’t necessarily write it off, but we figured something just hadn’t settled in her stomach when she had eaten dinner (which I had cooked. Even more reason for Greg to ALWAYS cook dinner. See what I did there? I sure am one sneaky girl).
She woke up Sunday morning and seemed…okay. Maybe a little less energetic, but okay. She ate a banana for breakfast. And, okay, a couple of Oreos (shut up. She had a banana too. We didn’t know she was going to get sick again and I never said Greg and I were GENIUSES). She was a little whiney and wanted to cuddle a lot, but it was still not super-concerning.
Then she fell asleep with me on the couch for a morning nap. She slept for an hour or two, woke up and proceeded to hork up everything she had eaten in the past couple of days all over me. Seriously. I was laying on the couch and she was pretty much sitting up on my stomach when it happened. My entire shirt was covered (and not to get graphic, but I will NOT be eating bananas or Oreos again any time soon). Poor Greg grabbed a towel to put over me while Zoey kept throwing up and then he had to help me wrestle a crying Zoey out of her second pair of pajamas and hold her while I attempted to extricate myself from the puke shirt without actually having to touch it.
Add to that the fact that she had wet through her diaper onto my shirt as she slept because, well heck, why not? Everything went straight into the washing machine and Greg was on laundry duty while I cuddled with Zoey on the couch and tried to soothe her.
After that, it was pretty much all down hill. We kept all food away from her and broke out the Pedialyte so she wouldn’t get dehydrated. She threw that up too. Every couple of hours she threw up and the only indication we’d get that it was on the way was that she’d start whining about two seconds before trajectory became an issue.
And it’s not like you can really hold a toddler over a toilet while they puke and hope it doesn’t scar them for life. Dude, we’re going to be potty training soon. I don’t want her to be afraid of the toilet because that’s where she goes to puke. Needless to say, we went through a lot of bath towels and even a couple of blankets because toddler puke on the couch and/or living room carpet is no one’s friend.
Poor Zoey. She was so frustrated because you could tell she would start to feel a smidge better and she’d hop off my lap to play, but as soon as her feet touched the floor she’d start crying because, I assume, her little tummy started doing flip flops again. So, she and I spent most of the day cuddling.
In the late afternoon, she acted like she was hungry, so Greg and I decided maybe we’d try some plain applesauce. She loves applesauce, it would be easy on her stomach and we figured it would help to keep her dehydrated. Go BRAT diet. Yeah, she threw that up too.
After that, she stuck solely to chugging down the Pedialyte, so we knew she was not going to get dehydrated.
Monday, I ended up taking a vacation day from work because Zoey was still acting like she felt like crap. Zero energy. No appetite. Whiney. Clingy. It made for a real fun day, but Greg and I did it because our baby needed us. In fact, I ended up spending most of the day cuddling on the couch with Zoey and praying that she’d feel better soon because there really is nothing more pathetic-looking than a sick baby.
That evening, though, she seemed to perk up a bit. For the first time in, like, three days, she ventured off the couch and started playing with her toys. She even got excited when we asked her if she wanted to take a shower. Everything seemed like maybe it was okay again, so I made plans to head back to work the next day.
I posted on Facebook the next morning about how Zoey seemed to finally be doing better. Not even fifteen minutes later, she woke up with pink eye. And a cough. And was whiney. And clingy.
I felt so bad but I still ended up heading to work because I didn’t want to get in trouble for taking another unexpected vacation day. It was frustrating because even though I knew Zoey was in the incredibly capable hands of Greg, I wanted to be there, myself, to take care of our sick baby. She tends to prefer me over everyone when she isn’t feeling well. And yet, I had had to walk out the door and drive to work. I felt like I had made the wrong decision, like I had put the wrong thing first. I felt like a bad mom (by the way, a big huge thanks to Abby, Shaina, Christine and Cheryl for your kind words and different perspective on this).
That whole morning at work, I worried about how Zoey was doing and I prayed that the stomach bug wasn’t somehow coming back to her. Pink eye I can deal with. A toddler with a stomach bug? Not so much. And while I worried and worked on skus at work and texted Greg for Zoey updates, I started feeling a yucky THING in the pit of my stomach.
And it grew. And grew. I told my editor I didn’t feel very well, which seemed incredibly overdramatic since I had spent a bit of time that morning telling her about what it’s like being a mommy to a sick baby. I tried slumping in the chair at my desk as I worked. I tried sipping water. I tried taking deep breaths and letting them out slowly. The feeling just kept growing and growing until finally I told my awesome cubemate, Abby, that I was just going to go hang out in the bathroom for a few minutes if anyone was looking for me.
I made it there just in time before puking (by the way, a big huge sorry to the coworker I sort of pushed past to make it into the bathroom on time. You seem very nice and I usually would have stopped and laughed with you about how we almost ran into each other when you opened the door to the bathroom and I came barreling through, but I knew IT was coming and I didn’t have much time).
Needless to say, I ended up going home right after that because no one likes a pukey coworker.
I spent all of my energy focusing on driving the thirty minutes home. I walked in the house, threw my cell phone and car keys on the counter, laid on the couch and pretty much didn’t get up from there for a few hours. And when I did get up, it was only to go upstairs to our bedroom to lay down.
There was puking. And dizziness. And weak legs. And headaches galore. It was not a fun time to be me, but on the plus side, Zoey was clearly feeling better, as she had to be reminded more than a few times that it probably was not a good idea to try to climb on Mommy and bounce on her stomach.
Yesterday, I was off from work again because I could barely walk to the bathroom without getting so dizzy and weak-feeling. I spent most of the day on the couch, dozing and watching Greg follow Zoey around the house. Thank God for that man. He took such good care of Zoey and I, both, the past few days. I sure do love him. He’s a good egg.
So today, I’m finally starting to feel better. I can sit up without feeling like I’m going to fall over and I’m back to having my morning cup of coffee (I’m sure you’re all breathing a sigh of relief that all is right with the world regarding that one. But it is sort of a big deal. Cindy not wanting her morning coffee? Wait, what? But alas, that happened the past couple days when I was under the weather).
I’m planning to head back to work today and Greg and I, both, are praying, praying, praying that he doesn’t get this wretched stomach bug because he’s on Zoey duty for the next week and a half (my mom–Zoey’s regular babysitter–and well, pretty much the rest of my immediate family are all cruise-bound in Florida right now). So, Aunt Kim and cousin Lisa, if you’re reading this, we may possibly be giving you guys a call.
It’s just been an incredibly horrible week health-wise so far. Thankfully, Zoey and I, both, seem to be on the mend. Zoey’s pink eye doesn’t seem to bother her all that much, but she’s now chewing on her fingers like they constantly have chocolate on them. And the drool. Dear Lord, are we teething AGAIN?!?!
It just never ends.