Really, my messy house is quite the least of my worries. But I just walked downstairs and viewed the chaos and couldn't help but make note of it. My two days to work from home are Mondays and Tuesdays, while simultaneously taking care of Sami. It usually works so well because her dad is here until 11am mostly taking care of her, and then she's such a good napper during the day, and when she's awake, she's very easily self-entertained. But this week...geesh.
Anyway, finally it happened. Sami has gotten sick. It started yesterday. She ate her breakfast oatmeal willingly enough, with the usual happiness. And then about 20 minutes after she ate, a little came up. And luckily I had her at the sink cleaning her up, when the whole damn mess came up. I swear more came out than went in. Poor little bug. It startled her, and it probably hurt her a little, and she just looked very surprised then started crying. She's never thrown up like that before. So we cleaned her up, and I took her upstairs and changed all her clothes. But that was just the beginning. It resulted in two days (so far) of her not wanting to eat or drink much at all, and when she did, you could see it hurt her when it hit her tummy -- she'd whimper and whatnot. And she is never whiny and whimpery like that. Then the diarrhea started. Poor, poor girl. I'll spare you the gory details, but suffice it to say that at one point, with the diaper off, I was cleaning up anything within 4 feet of her--directionally speaking. And I'm not kidding.
Anyway, my happy, smiling good-natured baby has not been so for two days. I feel so terrible for her. She doesn't understand why she doesn't feel good, she has no way of knowing it isn't going to be this way forever, and I just hurt for her. On top of how her tummy must feel, her bottom is all red and rashy from (I'm assuming) the acidity of her diarrhea. I'm greasing her up good at every half hour diaper change, and it is improving, but the poor little thing.
She has a doctor appointment (her 6 month) tomorrow, so I didn't want to overreact and take her in, but I finally did feel the need to call them and just find out if what I was instincitively doing was correct. And it was. Except they said give her Pedialite. Well, whatever. I went and bought some. And I warned the nurse that she'd never even so much as tasted fruit juice, so I wasn't sure she'd take it. Cripes. Have you tasted that stuff? It is the most sickeningly sweet thing. It is disgusting. She got one taste of it from her beloved but now deceitful bottle, and that was it. She clamped up her little trap and refused any more. I didn't blame her one bit. We just went back to formula. It is staying down, so I know she's getting fluids, and that is what is important. I had to squirt a little formula into her mouth forcefully to convince her I wasn't pulling any more fast ones on her after that whole Pediacrap incident.
Anyway, last night she woke up when her dad got home and we went in together to check on her in bed. So we got her up and fed her a couple ounces of formula. And then I took her back to her room, and we sat in the rocker in her room, and I sang to her and rocked her. And then she nestled in and let me tickle her face, and she fell asleep in my arms. Well, I'm watching as her face relaxes and she settles asleep, and I feel so bad for her--for not feeling good. And for some morbid reason, I get to thinking about the parents of babies, say, in the Children's Hospital, and how some of them are so, so sick. And maybe in pain, and even worse... and I'm thankful that in 6 months this is the first time she's ever, ever been even the least bit sick. But I think of them, and I can't even bear the thought. How do parents even begin to cope with that? How on Earth do they bear such a thing? Anyway, I get all bawly and emotional. After I moved her to her crib, I went back downstairs to see Michael, and I was all sniffly and teary, and had to try to explain my thoughts. This baby thing can just turn you right into an emotional goofball without you even realizing it is happening.
I hate to capitalize on her illness, but we did have a little first that still makes me a bit emotional when I think of it. Late last night, her dad was holding her on his lap and trying to soothe her, and when I walked over to give her a little kiss myself, she actually reached for me. That's the first time that has happened, that she's reached for either of us to pick her up. Her dad noticed it and was very gracious about it, and goes (like it would be any other way), "That's okay. When I was little and sick, I remember all I wanted was to be with my mom, too." But I think he might have had a slight pang of jealousy. That's okay, though, because he gets the part where she just gazes, like she's just completely smitten with him (I know... she is), into his face when she sees him. I won't fault him that one -- I love seeing how much she adores her daddy.
Anyway, here's hoping Sami feels all better in the morning.
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