January 9th… K is sick

K is sick.  Actually, me, my husband, and K, all three of us have been sick this past week, but K got it last and the worst.  I’m sure all of you know that there’s a stomach bug going around (well at least in LA there is) and it hit K hard.  She’s spent the last two nights with liquid poop shooting up her back.  She spent all last night vomiting.  In a twelve hour period, I’ve run the laundry machine at least three times.  She’s been bathed four times. She keeps getting vomit all over her unruly hair so now she sleeps with three pigtails to help minimize the mess. She can’t keep anything down or in so we started her on Pedialyte, 1tsp every 5 minutes (per instructions given by the after hours nurse) which was like torture for her because she was so hungry and every time she finished what was in the syringe, she’d cry for more… out of hunger.  It’s the worst feeling when your child is sobbing so hungry in your arms and you need to purposefully withhold food from her.  We took her to the doctor’s office and she’s lost over two pounds.  I’m so sad.  I feel helpless. Confession… last night while she ws vomiting, yet again in my arms, I panicked while trying to run her to the nearest trash can instead of just turning her to her side.  I turned to see her begin to choke on her vomit because I was carrying her on her back before I quickly realized and turned her.  I felt like a stupid idiot bad mom.

But K is strong.  And in between these torturous moments, while she’s flopped on her stomach because she’s too energy-less to move, she stops and smiles at me.  She leans into my arms and plays with my fingers.  She tells me it’s okay… that we’re both trying… and that she loves me.  And I begin to forgive myself, because it’s my first time… and I’m learning.  I will get better at taking care of a sick baby.  I look down at K and try to convey this promise to her with all the sincerity in my eyes.  And K rubs my arm gently to tell me… she knows.

 

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