An ugly bug has reared its head in my life. On Friday, I was
introduced to norovirus, a lovely collection of viruses that can be
quite serious to vulnerable populations, such as the 1-year-old in my
home.
It started with vomiting, then the loss of appetite, followed by a runny nose and then the irritability.
Yup, my son was down for the count.
I scrapped any hopes of it being a productive weekend and put on my mommy cap and went to work making my Peanut as comfortable as possible. Naps were encouraged, blankets were on the couches and floor, sippy cups with fluids were as far as the eye could see.
I've heard horror stories from other parents who go on sleepless sojourns when they're children are ill.
I've heard about the messes in beds and the extreme situations that land you in the emergency room.
Thankfully, my recent situation was not in that league.
My son slept through the night and faithfully took all his regular naps. By day three, I managed to coax him into eating some applesauce and carrots in addition to the fluids and crackers on which he had been subsisting.
My husband was busy assisting me, making sure we had all the supplies we needed, from buying medications to finding the thermometer, from filling the humidifier to fixing the CD player.
After three days of baby funk, we were firing on all cylinders and were managing his symptoms quite well. He seemed to perk up a little and was quietly playing with his toys. I was able to read to him (normally he is a wiggle worm) and I was getting big hugs and regular snuggles.
So, it was not surprising when he toddled up to me in the living room, threw a leg over to sit in my lap and snuggled into me. He started to cry a bit and I tried to soothe him.
I was proud of myself for keeping everything humming along smoothly.
He looked at me and smiled. I smiled back as my heart melted.
Then he vomited on my shirt.
— Sarah Leach is content editor at The Holland Sentinel. Contact her at (616) 546-4278 or sarah.leach@hollandsentinel.com.
It started with vomiting, then the loss of appetite, followed by a runny nose and then the irritability.
Yup, my son was down for the count.
I scrapped any hopes of it being a productive weekend and put on my mommy cap and went to work making my Peanut as comfortable as possible. Naps were encouraged, blankets were on the couches and floor, sippy cups with fluids were as far as the eye could see.
I've heard horror stories from other parents who go on sleepless sojourns when they're children are ill.
I've heard about the messes in beds and the extreme situations that land you in the emergency room.
Thankfully, my recent situation was not in that league.
My son slept through the night and faithfully took all his regular naps. By day three, I managed to coax him into eating some applesauce and carrots in addition to the fluids and crackers on which he had been subsisting.
My husband was busy assisting me, making sure we had all the supplies we needed, from buying medications to finding the thermometer, from filling the humidifier to fixing the CD player.
After three days of baby funk, we were firing on all cylinders and were managing his symptoms quite well. He seemed to perk up a little and was quietly playing with his toys. I was able to read to him (normally he is a wiggle worm) and I was getting big hugs and regular snuggles.
So, it was not surprising when he toddled up to me in the living room, threw a leg over to sit in my lap and snuggled into me. He started to cry a bit and I tried to soothe him.
I was proud of myself for keeping everything humming along smoothly.
He looked at me and smiled. I smiled back as my heart melted.
Then he vomited on my shirt.
— Sarah Leach is content editor at The Holland Sentinel. Contact her at (616) 546-4278 or sarah.leach@hollandsentinel.com.
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