Life is never dull chez Turia.
I got back from the clinic on Thursday mid-morning.
“E. says he’s feeling sick,” said Auntie C. “But he also keeps saying he wants to watch a video.”
“Right,” I said. “He says that most days.”
That afternoon E. actually took a nap during quiet time. This has become such a rare occurrence that quiet time now consists of him sitting in his crib with toys and books with the light on for as long as he’ll tolerate.
He woke up and I was reminded that sometimes when you take a nap when you don’t really need one any longer the results are not good.
About an hour later he finally calmed down enough to be willing to go downstairs and have a snack.
I made him crackers with cream cheese. I ate some of the cream cheese too. I think this will later become quite relevant.
E. ate quite a big snack (the crackers, some apple, some nuts).
“You feel sick,” he said. “You want to watch a video.”
“If you want to watch a video, E., you don’t have to say that you’re sick,” I told him. “You can just ask to watch a video.”
So we watched twenty minutes of side-loading garbage trucks on YouTube (side-loading because E. has decided he doesn’t like garbage truck videos with front-loading and rear-loading ones).
At dinner E. refused to even come to the table.
“You too sick to eat dinner,” he said. “You going to lie on the floor instead until it is bedtime.”
So he lay on the floor next to my chair.
Q. and I raised eyebrows at each other.
I put him to bed around 7:15.
Before 8 p.m. he was up, crying.
“You’ve been sick!” he called.
Q. went up to look. E. had done what could have been just a very wet burp. We changed his sheets; I calmed him down. Q. and I debated whether this counted under the “no vomiting for 24 hours before attending” nursery school policy.
We went back downstairs.
About fifteen minutes later, E. was hysterical. I ran up the stairs and got there just as the second or third round of projectile vomiting started. It was everywhere. We got him out of the crib, and pulled out all the linens and any stuffed animals that had been vomited on (his best bunny got hit again). I stripped the toddler and cleaned him up while Q. gathered up the washing.
By now E. was truly hysterical. “You can’t seep in your crib! You was sick in it!”
We were out of sheets and mattress covers and sleep sacks.
We pulled the single futon mattress into our room, put towels and sheets on it, and then I lay down on our bed while E. fell asleep (which he did remarkably quickly). Meanwhile Q. called Auntie C. to see if she could possibly come over yet again as he had to teach my class on Friday and I was due in at the clinic for an overdue intralipid infusion. Auntie C. got our message later that evening and, being a saint, altered her work arrangements to come over. (Seriously. She is a saint. She has saved us more times than I can count this fall. If we bring a baby home in September it will be in no small part thanks to her.)
At 10:30 the laundry had finished, so we remade E.’s crib, transferred him over, and got ready for bed. I didn’t have to do a Fragmin shot since my doctor had told me to switch to every other day. I was excited about this and told Q. I set up the progesterone. Q. jabbed me.
“There’s something wrong with the plunger on this one.”
We had to redo the entire thing and Q. had to jab me again on the other side. I should never have said anything about the freedom from Fragmin.
Finally, at nearly 11 p.m., we were able to go to sleep.
1 a.m. E. woke up. I stumbled in to check on him and soothed him back to sleep. I then rapidly realized that I was about to be sick myself.
I have not been that sick in I don’t know how long. I was very ill one night while pregnant with E., but I think this was worse. I was sick at least ten times between 1 a.m. and 5 a.m. After about the sixth time, when I realized I had nothing left in my stomach but was just continually retching, I gave up on getting out of bed and just used a bowl.
I think it was food poisoning and not the flu. The timing and the onset for both of us was suspicious. And I think it was the cream cheese- it’s about the only thing we both ate that Q. didn’t, and it had been in the fridge for a while.
At 5 a.m. I was planning how I would rebook the intralipid, but by 6 a.m., after not having thrown up for an hour, I felt cautiously better. E. slept until 8:15, so I was able to shower, and I kept down some dry toast and some water.
E. was not at all pleased to have the plans change and was not at all pleased to see Auntie C. He was so upset that when he demanded his usual Friday breakfast of “toast with peanut butter and honey” I, against my better judgment, gave it to him. This guaranteed that he started vomiting right when I was about to get a cab to the clinic.
Poor Auntie C.
I got to the clinic. They didn’t have a cubicle for me. A patient in for a transfer had arrived early and they hadn’t paid attention to the number of rooms.
“It’s really busy today,” said the head nurse. “Can you go home and come back later?”
“No,” I said flatly. “I’ve left my vomiting toddler at home. My sister is taking time off work to look after him. I have to do this this morning.”
They moved the transfer patient to somewhere else (possibly into an ultrasound room) and set me up in the cubicle. While they were getting the IV started my sister texted me. “Is it normal for him to just lie on the floor not saying anything?” she asked.
“Yes, he does that when he’s feeling unwell,” I sent back.
She texted again five minutes later. “He’s fallen asleep.” She sent a picture. E., on his hands and knees, with his head on the carpet, was asleep on the living room floor.
This is E. we’re talking about. The child who never, ever, sleeps anywhere else but in his crib.
I called her. “He must be really feeling ill. He needs the sleep. Keep an eye on his breathing and just let him sleep as long as he needs to.”
She sent me another picture a few minutes later. “He’s rolled on his side and I’ve put the sleepsack on him like a blanket,” she texted.
Meanwhile, I was in a comfortable chair with the feet up and the back down, covered in two blankets, and with the light turned off. I didn’t fall asleep, but it was a peaceful ninety minutes or so lying there. The IV did me a world of good and probably got more nutrients into me than I could have managed at home.
It was a madhouse- they were trying to get a whole bunch of procedures done before the weekend. Three other people were there who had the same first name as I do- says something about the demographics of the clinic and the popularity of the name (which peaked in the late 70s and early 80s). It was also a day to be grateful for what we have. They did three D&Cs while I was there, and an egg retrieval where they only got one egg. They were hoping to get two, but the other one was already gone. When I was getting ready to leave the couple was discussing with the doctor whether or not they could do an IUI as well to try and catch that other egg. I thought of E. at home, and the baby in my uterus, and was grateful, even with how sick I felt.
In the cab on the way home, C. texted me. “Are you in the cab yet? E’s just woken up and he’s not the happiest.”
I got home. I calmed E. down. When C. left, I was lying on the couch and E. was lying on top of me.
He took two more naps that afternoon- just kept passing out on the couch. He threw up once more, but then he started to improve. I decided he might have been running a bit of a temperature, so dosed him with Advil, and that perked him up a little. He also managed to keep down some food (plain toast, Cheerios, plain crackers). He refused (again) to have anything to do with dinner (“You too sick to eat dinner”), including the french fries Q. had picked up thinking they might tempt him (or me- and I was so excited as I had been thinking they would be such a good idea), but he held things together long enough for a bath, and then slept really well last night.
Today we spent the morning watching truck videos on YouTube (including one four minute video with a song about excavators which I now have in my head), before he decided what he really wanted to do was lie on the floor in his sleepsack with a blanket over him. So he’s clearly not over it yet, but he’s keeping food and water down. I’m feeling much much better and only realize I’m still sick if I try to get up and do too many things at once.
The silver lining is it’s made it very easy to spend much of the last two days on the couch. I just have to hope that my body reacted as violently as it did because it was protecting the pregnancy and that the baby in the uterus is still happily growing, blissfully unaware of what we’ve all been through.