I knew the day would come, and I knew it would be awful. But I still wasn’t prepared for when my sweet, darling boy became sick out of nowhere.
At first I didn’t know it was happening. We had been practicing napping on surfaces that weren’t my arms, and he’d been averse to it for the most part. Instead of encouraging him to sleep in his crib, on this day I thought I’d let him sleep on the couch next to me. I transferred him easily (a bit too easily), and he napped for a whole hour (as opposed to the 30-45 minutes he had been getting). I mistook this as a sign of progress. Shortly thereafter, it was clear that my hopes were misguided and that poor Rowan was sick.
What tipped me off? My usually happy, active baby was completely lethargic. He had far fewer soiled diapers than usual. Oh, and what I thought was a whole lot of spit up that turned out to be throw up.
I’m ashamed that it took me as long as it did to realize Rowan was sick. I was set to drop him off at my friend’s house before heading out for an appointment when I realized something wasn’t right. But was I overreacting? While my baby didn’t usually spit up, I couldn’t tell the difference between throw up and spit up. I had to make a decision – stay home with my sweet and call the doctor, or let him be and hope all’s well?
Fortunately, my mama instincts kicked in and were right. I cancelled my appointment and made one for Rowan with his pediatrician. It turned out there was nothing the doctor could really do except tell me what I already suspected—he was dehydrated and needed fluids. She guessed it was a stomach bug that had been going around, which I had heard of but desperately hoped we’d avoid. No such luck.
I did everything I could to comfort Rowan and keep his food down, but I’ve never felt more helpless in my entire life. I would’ve traded places with him in an instant if given the opportunity. The next two days were the longest, especially after the doctor informed me that if he threw up again, we’d have to go to the children’s hospital. I am so grateful it didn’t come to that.
Rowan showed signs of improvement within 48 hours. Soon after, Arthur and I got to the task of disinfecting and deep cleaning the entire house. I might not have been able to switch places with Rowan when he was sick, but Arthur did, within hours of us finishing the purge of germs.
My poor boys just couldn’t catch a break, which meant neither could I.