Returning to the Land of the Living

I never thought I would say this, but sometimes being a conscientious mommy does not pay off. Take my downward spiral into hell last week. On Wednesday I was at the pediatrician’s office for Alice’s two and a half year check up. During our consultation and exam, Alice’s pediatrician told us to make sure we washed our hands upon leaving as a rather nasty stomach bug has been going around. No problem. I carry antibacterial hand goo in my coat pocket these days (along with snacks, sippy cups, bandages, coupons…). I waited until we were safely by the car and proceeded to give our hands a good going over. 24 hours later….

I heard the crying at 2 in the morning. Wondering what could be up, I stumbled into Alice’s darkened bedroom and then it hit me- the smell, the slime beneath my bare feet. “Oh #%$@!” screeched itself through my brain. I turned on the light to see my daughter (along with her sheets and carpet) covered in vomit. Thankfully John was home for this one. I set her up in the tub, got John to wash her and proceeded to strip, steam, and clean. Part of me realized the futility of all this action. If she got sick once, she was going to go again. I was up about five more times in the night.

John went off to work the next morning leaving me with puke girl. I was pleasantly surprised that despite the heaving she was perfectly content to hang around the house and watch Spongebob Squarepants. Thankfully, by the end of the day, the vomiting stopped and for the next two days I went on a cleaning/disinfecting frenzy probably made all the more intense by my pregnancy and nesting urges. I finished on Saturday afternoon, took a long hot shower and proceeded to never leave the bathroom. Yep, I got Alice’s stomach virus.

I don't think I ever had such a virulent stomach bug before. According to the stomach flu gods, it was not enough that I would vomit; but, it had to happen in sets of three and in rapid succession. After several hours of that suffocating torture, the other end decided to get into the action. I was surprised there was anything left inside of me. You know things are bad when you think to yourself, “Boy, am I glad the sink is so close to the toilet.” After another sleepless night, I realized that none of the fluids I forced upon myself had any effect; I was dehydrated. This would have caused me to be upset under normal circumstances but in my pregnant state I was a bit freaked out. I wanted to cry, and I did try to, but no tears would fall. I called my gynecologist and was told to head to the emergency room for an IV. Several hours and three liters of fluid later, I was finally able to urinate and was released.

I am on the mend but still really tired. Unfortunately, toddlerhood allows no rest for the weary mommy. I look forward to the weekend and John being around so I can pull a Rip Van Winkle. Now if only I can get through today…