The Tyrant, after 2 and 1/2 years and one month, has finally been laid low. By something or other, presumably a virus of some sort.
I had just managed to get myself tucked up in bed when he threw up for the first time ever.
And then it happend again. And again. And again. Five times all total and each time we’d get up, get him changed (we gave up brushing his teeth after the second event), get the bed changed and get back to sleep only to have him repeat the whole process yet again. By the 4th time it came to me that I should probably have a bucket of some sort. So Number Five went into the bucket and that was the last one of the night.
He threw up three more times today and now is sleeping and has gone about 4 hours without hurling so I’m fervently praying that this is only a 24 hour bug, not a 48 hour one.
24 hours is a long time with a sick little one. One’s day is marked by
the smell of sour milk
“You think he’s ok, don’t you?”
checking little heads every so often
I’m keeping vigil over his bedside tonight. After the ENORMOUS pile of laundry including most of our blankets, all the flannel sheets, all of Miles’s jammies and most of my sweaters, I am determined to catch everything I can in the Bucket tonight!
He rallied briefly this afternoon but for the most part we’ve done a lot of laying on the sofa listening to music and extended napping/nursing sessions. The milk doesn’t stay down but it probably stays down long enough to get his body a little of what it needs to absorb, anyway, since breastmilk is so rapidly and easily digested.
Thank you to the four of you who have listened to my little tale of Miles’s First Illness. Hopefully I’ll have nothing new to report tomorrow, other than a Bucket-free night.