It all started this past Sunday. We were about to eat our Easter dinner at my parents house. There were 10 minutes left we were waiting for the rolls to bake and I was getting J situated in his chair for his first real Easter meal. As I got him settled and set his tray and plate in front of him, he puked all over himself. I stood there in shock because he never showed any signs of feeling sick. Everything, I mean everything, came out of that kid. There was stuff coming out of him that I didn't even recognize, like there was red stuff. Red? What the heck did he eat that could possibly be red? We had no clue and he wasn't about to stop so we could discuss the situation.
My immediate reaction was to catch as much as possible with my hands. I don't know why I do that but I do, but there was so much of it I couldn't hold it all. So I started dumping what I had onto his empty plate and started catching more. It was horrible.
I thought that was it. I thought we could clean him up, change his clothes, and hopefully let his stomach settle while we ate dinner. So he sat with us and looked ill. The poor thing, I had no idea how he was feeling but his face was so pale I knew something wasn't right.
He continued getting sick that afternoon. We waited it out for a couple of hours but we decided to attempt the long hour car ride home. My husband sat in the back seat with him because J was still dry heaving. A half dozen times later we were home and you would think he would want to go to bed. He was thirsty and I had to not let him drink so much but it turned out to be a battle.
We got into the routine of when he'd get sick. I finally taught J how to get sick into a bowl and I honestly don't know if he was even coherent throughout the whole thing. The poor kid was so dehydrated he would fall limp in my arms after getting sick. It's one of the worst feelings in the world.
After getting him in the bath and off to bed my husband and I were hoping he'd get at least a good nap to help fight off this bug. Anything he was drinking or eating was coming back up within 20 minutes. After a couple hours of sleep J was still waking up with dry heaves and very miserable. He was ready to eat and I let him eat some crackers. 5 crackers later and some juice he was ready for bed. I had expected a surprise in the morning but didn't expect what happened. Or maybe I did.
My poor sick baby, blankets, and sheet was covered in caked cracker. My husband and I split the cleaning duties: I took J and he took the bed. After everything was semi back to normal we assessed the situation. I knew J had to stay home and I was ditching work.
Our day went okay compared to the night. We had no more puking episodes but also wasn't very hungry. And around 2:00 that afternoon I started feeling ill. I took a nap while J was napping in the afternoon. When I woke up, things got worse.
The bug hit me full force Monday night. Thankfully I was able to get J into a bath and into bed before I got sick. My husband was horrified and knew he'd be next. He tried to sleep in our spare bedroom but by 2am he was back sleeping in our room. By that point I was done getting sick, but was feeling horrible. It was like I had been hit by a truck. So in the morning when I asked my husband to take J to daycare, he didn't understand why. I just needed the morning to hydrate and J seemed well enough to go away for a few hours. My husband did what I asked but then he came right back home. He now had the bug.
The two of us were in bed for the whole morning. My husband actually slept ALL day. By 11:30 that morning I got a call from daycare saying J had diarreah up to his armpits, twice. Murphy's law: I forgot to pack an extra set of clothes for him too. So when I went to pick him up (In my pj's) he was wearing some other kids clothes. Oh well. At that point I was suprised that I made it out of the house, but the car ride felt like a horrible roller coaster. As much as I wanted to get there and back quickly (in fear of either of us getting sick) I couldn't stand all the turns I had to make.
Somehow J & I made it through the afternoon, and my husband slept. J couldn't understand why Da-Da was napping. Da-da never naps. So we had to peek our head inside the bedroom to see what Da-Da was doing. My husband did get up from time to time but he was miserable. So J & I took it easy, or at least I tried to make that happen, but it's hard when a 16 month old wants to do what he wants.
That night went as planned, minus a dinner of course. We all thought about food and J picked at a tater tot, but for the most part we all skipped food that night. J had been eating better snacks so I wasn't too worried about him going to be hungry. But by 4:30 the next morning things changed.
J woke us up screaming. It wasn't his normal cry. It was like he was scared and saw a ghost. I ran up to his room and found him covered in the yogurt snack from the previous afternoon. Mixed berry yogurt was everywhere. This was worse than the cracker morning. I was horrified even more by the smell that was in the room. I don't even take him out of his crib and strip him down to his diaper. He had yogurt even in his hair. This poor kid! My heart broke and then he tells me he's thirsty.
We trek back down to the kitchen and my husband creeps out from the bedroom wondering if he could help. This coming from the guy who slept 20 hours the day before. I told him if he could stomach the smell I could really use the help in cleaning his room. I felt lucky because he was able to tolerate that smell. So into the bath with J and no matter how much soap I used on him he still smelled of that mixed berry yogurt. That poor kid. But we managed to get cleaned up and put on fresh clothes. J was still tired but wound up from the activity. After a few cat naps J was not going back to sleep. My husband had already planned on taking the day off to recover and hydrate, but wasn't expected a little toddler to be with him.
I had to get back to work and I needed the two of them home. My husband did what I asked but was reluctant when giving in. It really is tough being sick as a family but the two of them made it through the day. I'm sure they each had their moments when pushing the others buttons, but after drinking many cups of Gaterade the two of them seemed back to normal by the time I got home.
So today is the first day this week where we are all back to our routine. Our world sort of stopped turning for a while and we kind of floated through time. I had to remind my husband it was Thursday and he missed trash day yesterday. Somehow none of that mattered. We had experienced the worst together and got through it together. We learned how to depend on one another even when you feel there is no possible way you can roll out of bed.