A Mother's Day Full of Vomit

Last week Aunt Amy and Reid were here. We had a fabulous time. I can't even write about our week yet because it makes me so sad that they are gone. They were scheduled to leave about 4:00 pm on Saturday, so BVZ wanted to make everyone a nice lunch before they had to go to the airport. He grilled turkey burgers, got chips and salsa, and a bowl of pre-cut fruit from Safeway. We had a picnic outside and despite the wind kicking up, it was a really nice afternoon.

I asked Norah if she wanted to go to the airport. She said yes. She told me she had to get bear and her Tinkerbell blanket and then she would be ready. She got bear and her blanket and came back announcing she was ready to go to Bubby's house. Uh-oh. She really, really, really wanted to get on the airplane with Amy and Reid so that she could go to Bubby's house and "go swimming and play with all of Bubby's toys." I tried to reassure her that we would go to Bubby's, just not today, but she was having none of that. Finally I told her that she didn't have a ticket and you had to have a ticket to get on the plane. She ran into her room and came back with the receipt we get when we check out library books and announced, "here's my ticket, now I can go on the plane!" Heartbreaking.

Even more heartbreaking was actually having to leave Amy and Reid at the airport. I cried. Norah cried. It sucked. I asked Norah what we should do to make ourselves feel better and she said we should get milkshakes. I thought that was a great idea. This would turn out to be a terrible idea.

By the time we got home I wasn't feeling so hot. I figured it was because Amy and I had been staying up way too late talking and brushing each others' hair and the babies hadn't been the best sleepers all week. (Amy very lovingly referred to them as "turds"). Anyway, Norah and I took a walk around the block but that seemed to only make me feel worse. It was like out of nowhere I had the world's worst hangover. I fixed Norah some dinner but she only ate 2 or 3 bites of it before telling me she was "too full." I started having some, ahem. Bathroom issues. I was hanging out with Lou on the glider in his room at about 6:30 when Norah came in and told me that her tummy hurt. I asked if she needed to sit on the potty (usually, "tummy hurts" is code for "I have to poop") but she said no. Then she said, "Mom, I mean it. My tummy REALLY HURTS." And then she proceeded to puke the entire contents of her stomach, including that aforementioned vanilla milkshake, all over the glider and rug in Louis' room. So much puke. So much.

She got cleaned up and put into pajamas and even though it was 2 hours before her bedtime she asked to go to bed. That's how I knew she was really sick. She conked out and I continued to have, ahem. Bathroom issues. About an hour later she started screaming for me and both BVZ and I ran into her room and discovered the poor kid covered in vomit, her bed soaked. She got new pajamas and her bed stripped and got set up on the couch while we dealt with the crime scene. BVZ got her a bucket and showed her how to use it-"okay, honey, barf IN the bucket..." and I turned on Calliou.

About this time I knew Amy should have landed in Texas, so I called her to make sure she got there okay and to see if she was feeling bad as well. She answered the phone and from the second I heard her voice I knew all was not okay. So, for as much as the past 36 hours have sucked for us, it doesn't even remotely compare to what poor Amy went through. She did in fact get sick. On the plane. By herself. With Reid. Who is 5 months old. It is hard enough to pee in an airplane bathroom by yourself, much less while holding a baby. Then imagine having, ahem. Bathroom issues. And then vomiting? At the same time. Multiple times. During the course of a 3 hour flight. Complete and total misery. I have an anxiety attack just thinking about it.

Norah thew up a few more times (in the bucket-yay!) while sitting on the couch and I sat with her and held her hand. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks and I knew I was the next to fall. I got halfway down the hall before the puking started and then had the worst, most violent vomiting I have ever had in my life for the next 15 minutes straight. Chocolate milkshake, not the best idea I have ever had.

Norah gave up laying on the couch and just passed out on the floor.

She slept on the floor Saturday night waking every 15 minutes or so to throw up in her bucket (of course by this time it was just stomach acid and bile). BVZ slept on the couch and woke up with her every time she got sick. I tried to sleep in the bed but was similarly up every half hour or so to throw up or use the bathroom. It was a nightmare. BVZ had some, ahem. Bathroom issues. But no puking. Thank goodness because there's absolutely no way I could have dealt with Norah's sickness on my own in the condition I was in. Lou decided to be a total rock star and slept from 9:00 pm to 3:00 am, then downed a bottle and went back to sleep until 7:00 am. It was like he knew he had to be on his best behavior.

Sunday morning Norah still couldn't even keep water down so we had to take her into urgent care to check for dehydration. She had "moderate" dehydration but nothing serious enough to warrant an IV or other intervention, so they gave her Zofran and we got to go home. In retrospect, I am not sure why I am the one who took her into urgent care. I guess we just sent me instinctively because I am always the one who takes them to the doctor, but holy schmoly. I never should have left the house and felt as though I might die the entire time.

Thankfully, as soon as we got home, Norah wanted to go to bed and so did I, so we both slept for several hours. I spent all day Sunday feeling as though I had been hit by a truck. Norah tried to play but ended up laying on the floor for the better part of the day.

The Zofran did its job and kept her puke free until she went to bed Sunday night and yup. All over the sheets again. Plus, all over bear. She was devastated he had to go into the washing machine and demanded to sleep with me, although "Mom is not as cuddly as bear." We set her up with her bucket and a lot of towels, but thankfully she slept instead of puked the entire night. Although she did wake up at one point and ask me, "IS BEAR DONE YET?"

She woke up with a smile on her face this morning and asked for breakfast and to go to Ruby's house. I gave her a little bit of breakfast and then put BVZ in charge while I took a shower. And she then puked up everything in her stomach on the chair in the living room. Poor pumpkin. On a scale of 1 to 10 I feel about a 3 today. Which compared to the negative 5 I have been for the past 36 hours is a definite improvement.

We are having a Mother's Day re-do this weekend. It better be good.