For some reason finding the time to write lately has taken a back seat to other things. Like sleeping and showering and doing my job. I know - lame, right? But this week has been C to the RAZY, and write I must.
Tuesday afternoon, Robert's phone stopped working, which wouldn't be such a huge deal except that he had to drive to Kansas City that evening to prepare for a visit to two schools in Kansas on Wednesday. (This is important to a later part of my story.)
After hanging out with a friend for pizza and playtime with the baby, I put Miles to sleep and caught up on my DVR'd shows. Beavis and Butthead, The Walking Dead - you know, the classics.
After two hours of sleep for Mommy, Miles started to fuss, so I went down to hold him and see if he was hungry. As I was about to nurse him, he had a coughing fit, which ended in him vomiting (a lot!!!) all over himself and me. Poor little guy. I can't say that I'd ever been puked on before, but it was not pleasant. Mostly because I was so worried about him. He didn't seem fazed by it -- didn't even cry. In fact, I think he quite enjoyed the Mommy / son bathtime that ensued immediately afterwards.
After getting a fresh diaper and pj's, he coughed hard and threw up... again. This was the point where I began to flip out. I called my mom crying. She answered on ring one and a half, sounding awake and almost like she was expecting something crazy to be happening on the other end of the line. (Though I'm sure whenever your kid calls at 1 a.m. it's not a good thing.) Gammy was amazing and calming and helpful, assuring me that it's normal for kids to gag when coughing. It was good just to hear another grown up person's voice and know I wasn't in it alone. I felt consoled and reassured and like I could handle things once I hung up with her. I then changed Miles into pair of jammies #3 of the night and fed him a little.
That's when he decided to vomit yet again. Here is where I went from scared to terrified. I called the pediatric triage hotline and spoke to a very nice and helpful nurse named either Mary or Kathy, I don't quite recall. She gave me some helpful advice and had me take Miles into the bathroom with the shower running on hot, creating a steam bath. I decided that it was perhaps pointless to put new jammies on either of us, so there we were, covered in baby vomit, breathing steamy air. I kept kissing his little head, assuring him it was going to be okay, but not really knowing that for sure myself. I desperately wished Robert were there, but knew he wouldn't be able to do anything more than I was already doing.
The steamy room made him sleepy, so I let him fall asleep in my arms in bed while I composed an email to Robert (oddly the only form of communication he could receive on his peice of crap Blackberry). Then I propped my little man on a big pillow (covered in a towel) and slept (sort of) next to him all night. He slept 6 hours straight - I got maybe 4.
36 plus hours later, things are better. Robert drove home at 5 in the morning after getting my email and has been the sweetest husband and Daddy anyone could ask for. We both stayed home yesterday to look after our little guy, who seems to be on the mend.
Tomorrow is Friday. Thanksgiving is coming up. There is a lot to look forward to and be grateful for. But for now, let's just hope that the fact that Robert's phone is broken (again) and that he has to drive to KC tonight (again) are not signs of (vomity) things to come!
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