barf, bath, laundry, repeat

Today was a real doozy.

It started with a terribly groggy morning for both of us. X tossed & turned & fussed all night, probably feeling ill from the stupid Pentacel shot we gave him at his 6 months appointment yesterday afternoon. I woke up this morning feeling like someone had been hitting me in the face all night with a baseball bat. Yes. It was (almost) that bad. And I wasn't the one with 5 different diseases coursing through my bloodstream (stupid, stupid!).

X seemed OK, although tired, and he went down relatively early for his morning nap. I went in to nurse him when he fussed after about an hour and was surprised to remove from his room and notice that my shirt was drenched. I gripped my boobs --although it would be surprising this far along, I figured they would be the likely culprit. Nope. I gingerly sniffed my shirt and sure enough -the telltale smell of barf.

I rushed into the bedroom to find X tossing around in a 2 foot diameter puddle. I grabbed him to get him out of the mess and he erupted again, several times, spewing a great gushing torrent of barf all over me and the bed linens. It was nasty but more seriously -it was terrifying. I was cooing and calming him, but my hands were shaking. He seemed genuinely alarmed, looking at me with great big WTF?!? eyes as he gasped and gagged.

I got him to the changing table and mopped up what I could from his face and hair, but he was a hopeless mess. He needed a bath. He giggled and babbled at me as I got the water ready in his little green jungle animals tub (yes, I know he's waaaay too big for that tub). I was amazed how quickly he was able to rebound from the trauma of nearly hacking up a lung.

After the bath, calmed, lotioned, relaxed and nursing I crossed my fingers that the worst was over. He didn't seem feverish and he'd never reacted badly before to any of the shots we've given him & he seemed to be nursing as lustily as ever. Nope. A few minutes after he finished up, the waterfall of barf began again, this time all down the front of my shirt and into my lap. I laid him on a towel in the living room, stripped off my soggy, barfy clothes and proceeded to try to clean him off again. He cried and gagged and writhed around, still seeming totally puzzled as to what in the hell was going on.

I finally put a panicked call into his doctor, after a feverish talk with M. The nurse called me back in short order (a miracle -it typically takes hours for a call back) and told me to keep a close watch and to call he is spiked a fever and/or is still throwing up in the morning. He nursed again a bit later in the afternoon and so far (In-sha'-allah) he's been keeping everything down & seems to be doing okay, although he is definitely a mite listless and worn out from his ordeal. I am another story altogether....