If I managed to write as many blog posts as I compose in my head then you would all be sick of me. That said, today I have a little time due to having a sleeping Sam on me.
This week we have discovered one of the hardest moments of parenting: looking after your child when you’re both ill. It has been a hard few days.
Our little angel first showed signs of being a little under the weather on Sunday morning when, on the only morning Carl was not home, he was sick as I lifted him out of his bed. Babies are sick though, it’s part of what they do, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt. Bringing him into our bed for a cuddle and a feed, all was well until he projectile vomited all over himself, me and the bedding. Wash load on by 7.45am.
I’d often wondered how you would even know if a baby is sick as opposed to simply ‘being sick’. Well, in the words of the many women who said this to me about labour, “oh, you’ll know”.
Continuing 4 hours later, as I feed Sam before bed…
It was grim. After a couple of vomit attacks, I phoned NHS Direct, concerned that he would quickly become dehydrated. They advised a doctor’s appointment to check he was ok. 3 hours later, the very specific and not at all vague diagnosis was that it was ‘a virus’, so nothing to be done but wait it out.
He kept lunch down, but dinner made a reappearance. We had a rocky night and then all improved; happy and bubbly, kept breakfast and lunch down, managed a trip to Crawley, brilliant. At around 4.30pm though, I started feeling unwell and – unbeknown to me – so did Carl. By the time he arrived home an hour later, we were both feeling significantly ropey. He was the first to succumb while I barely managed to hold it together, which became all the more difficult when Sam’s dinner revisited us and he projectile vomited more food than I knew he could fit in him…all over himself, me and his carpet. It was a true exorcist moment and I felt so sorry for him as he started crying with the shock of what had happened.
It was a bad night for Carl and I. Luckily, Sam slept until about 5am but we barely slept all night, feeling feverish, sick, hot and cold. I hate being ill.
The next day was hard work as we both struggled to muster any kind of energy and tried to be a semi-decent parent, since Sam still wanted to stand, walk and play. However, he can’t have been feeling 100% because each time we needed sleep, we took him up, I fed him and he also crashed out. Thank goodness for Mum coming round after work and injecting some fun and laughter into his day.
That was Tuesday. Today we are both finally on the mend and Sam is happy and energetic as anything. Everything has been cleaned and we’ve learned a lesson about being blasé when he has a stomach bug and then shoves his fingers in our mouths.
It’s been a long week.
I’m finally posting this, a mere 8 hours after I started it, but at least I’ve managed a post!