When Life Hands You Vomit....

Clean it up.

Sorry, I have no great anecdotal words for tonight.   And if you're already having a bummer of a day, just skip this post.  It's just me, venting, virtually pouting.

Last Tuesday Henry started running a fever;  it came on crazy quick but it was responding to motrin and tylenol.  And when he had the meds in him, he was fine; or at least, acting fine.

It wasn't until Thursday night when his fever crept up a little too high for my liking that I decided to take him into the doc.  Let me explain;  I avoid the doctor with kids like one would avoid a hungry mama bear.  My kids + doctor... they don't mix. 

It's been a whacky year; and I feel like Stella has practically lived at the doctor, however there's a marked difference between bringing your baby verses your child to the doctor.  Babies fit in their carriers, meaning they can be comfined.  Kids?  HAAA.  I am seriously lacking the words to describe the torture.  Although fellow moms can definitely feel me on this one, I'm sure.

Anyways, it was a few weeks ago (with Stella) at the doctor when I bragged to Dr. Cline something like, "Yeah!  We've really lucked out this year.  Maeve and Henry have been great.  Absolutely nothing.  You know, the occasional cold, but that's it."

And then Henry's fever.

Friday rolled around and I decided I had to do it.  This wasn't a flu or a cold that was going to pass.  I had to make the call.  Henry needed to be examined.

Thankfully the fever had sedated Henry a bit.  He basically just laid on me.  It was not a huge deal of an appointment.  The doc found his ears were crazy infected (one had burst, the other on the verge of bursting).  She prescribed ammox. and that was that.  Nothing too traumatic. 

This past weekend was H-E-L-L.

Henry spiked a fever two days in a row of 105.  All I was thinking was "meningitis.  seizures.  death."  Because that's how my anxious mind works.  I begged Ryan to let me take him in to the ER.  And while Ryan would have ultimately let me, he managed to talk me down out of the panic and back into reality. 

I was up at 6 this morning, my burning boy in my arms counting down until 9 AM, when the doctor opened. 

Our office squeezed us in almost immediately (thank You LORD!).  At this appointment, Henry was even more listless.  They took his temp and it was 104.8.   I was terrified.  I thought surely something was horribly wrong.    He was drifting in and out of sleep and coughing fits.   My legs bounced with anxiety as I held him.  Dr. Cline came in and took one look at him and said "Well.  The antibiotics aren't working."

She checked his ears, and said they looked a little bit better which threw her.  Obviously the ammox was having some effect on his ears, but he clearly was very sick with something else.  She ordered a shot of rocefen, which she described to me as the equivalent of having IV antibiotics, without the IV.  She said she would expect substantial improvement throughout the day (from the rocefen) and if his fever was still this high, and he was acting so lethargic, we'd need to go up to Wolfson's  (the children's hospital in Jacksonville).   

And then all of a sudden Henry vomited.  The kid hasn't eaten in 7 days.  But he most certaibly made his mark in that room.  Dr. Cline helped me clean it up (I love her) and I think the frustration and "scary-ness" of it all just kind of hit me and I started to cry.  Which is so typical.  I cry  about everything.

As we waited for the nurse to return with the shot, I rocked Henry and had a pity party for the two of us.  It felt good, albeit a little embarrassing.

After the shot, (which was something out of a horror movie), I scooped him up and we were outta there.  We picked up Stella, who was with my mom, and went directly to Chick-fil-A.  He chugged a sprite, Stella pounded some nuggets.  I ate a sympathy cookie.

My mom kept Maeve for the afternoon because she doesn't nap, and I desperately wanted/needed to lie down with Henry. 

As the hours wore on, Henry's fever began to drop and his activity, his color, everything seemed to come back.  THANK YOU JESUS!!!  

Ryan volunteered to pick up Maeve while I started dinner.

And then the door opened, and in walked Ryan, cradling a red cheeked, tear stained face.

"What?"  I asked, very afraid to know the answer.

"She has a fever."

"No.  For all that's holy..........."

Lying her down on the couch, I took her temp (103) got her some sprite and set up the sick couch... again. 

She slept through dinner, while Henry actually ate at the table with us, for the first time in who knows how many days.

Post dinner, I said "I need creamer.  And I'm not going to Publix to get it."

No, I drove the fifteen minutes into town, to Target, to pick up generic coffee creamer.  I needed that drive.  My music, some silence, a break to come home and face my frustration.

The moral of this story?  I feel fine.  I'm good. 

I'm a mom.  And while I am blessed to be able to take 30 minute coffee creamer breaks (again- MAJOR SHOUT OUT TO THE SINGLE MAMAS OUT THERE!!!!), the reality is, when life hands you vomit (or anything nasty/smelly/unpleasant) you clean it up.   Or in my case, sit down for a minute, cry, pity yourself, then slap on the rubber gloves, be thankful for what you have and what your kids don't have and step back into action.

Thank you for all the prayers sweet friends :)

xoxo Ash



....So yesterday's post (You Don't Know Me), I have to apologize for.  The video I shared of Ben Fold's song, it uh, drops the f bomb.  Apparently I had only heard the radio version.... whoops.