We had a pretty relaxed weekend. We did a whole lot of nothing, which sometimes is just what is needed.
However, Saturday was a wee bit scary since Aria threw up for the first time. EVER. She’s eight months old, and still hasn’t gotten sick. I really hope I didn’t jinx myself for saying that. And yes, I count my lucky stars every day. Either way, getting sick is inevitable for babies/kiddos, and I knew it was going to happen one day, and I was going to have to face the music.
Anyhow, she was just taking her afternoon nap, when all of a sudden she started coughing and I walk over to her crib and she had puked all over herself. We quickly wiped her down, and we were about to give her a bath but then she got a second wind, and then a third, and a fourth, and so on and so forth. We were super worried given that this is the first time she’s ever been unwell.
Nonetheless, we finally bathed her about 30 minutes later. No fever. She was still queasy you could tell. We figured we’d wait a little bit before calling the doctor. It had only been about 45 minutes. I’ve never seen this side of my daughter. Quiet. No smiles. Not a single noise out of her. All she wanted to do was snuggle up next to us. It was the sweetest thing, and yes I cried. As a mom, I felt completely helpless. That awful feeling of knowing that this tiny, helpless little baby is not feeling well and she can’t voice it or tell me how to make it go away. AWFUL FEELING guys. Moms who have dealt with this, I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.
|Snuggles and cuddles with daddy.|
Anyhow, she finally fell asleep in my arms for about 45 minutes as I just rocked her. Woke up. And was completely back to normal. I’m not kidding you. Totally fine and back to her jolly self.
Our guess was that she probably ate something that didn’t sit well with her lil’ tummy.
Here’s our lil’ goober playing hide and seek minutes after she woke up from her nap. I was so happy to see that smile on her face again. Bliss.
Now, I know this was nothing. Menial really. Some of you moms are snickering and thinking “wait, til’ it’s really bad like the chickenpox or the flu.” But I felt so horrible for those two hours. It’s not like I knew she was going to be fine. I was thinking about what my plan of action was going to be…and how she was going to sleep through the night. I was panicked. Stressed. And about 100 other non-fun terms. Either way, it was scary. To say that I was happy that she was ok, is like the biggest understatement of the year for me.
Not looking forward to the next time she feels unwell. Sigh.
Is there any way we can keep our babies in safe little bubble forever? Any ideas? Anybody?