Sick

It has been an incredibly challenging 9 or 10 days, and I don’t even know that we’re out of the woods of infection yet.

I’ll spare you the gory details, but Monday I got up and started getting ready for work. I felt really nauseous, but eventually it faded. I decided to go to work, but I had the foresight to take a separate car. By 10:00, I bolted from the office.

On this day, I lost about 5 pounds in 12 hours.

As I was curled in the fetal position at home, school called. Charlotte had a 102-degree temperature. I called Chris, who picked up both girls.

Question: Ever nurse a baby while battling a stomach virus? I have. Several times now. (More on that in a minute.)

By Tuesday, I felt significantly better and telecommuted while sick Charlotte refused to eat (which I totally understood) and watched a billion episodes of Dora the Explorer.

Wednesday, Charlotte still wasn’t better (hmmmm), so Chris stayed home with her while I went to work and handled Lorelei’s drop-off/pick-up.

Wednesday night, Chris came down with the stomach virus. Charlotte still wasn’t better, so I knew I’d have to take a sick day on Thursday to handle sick Chris and Charlotte. No small decision when you've accrued oh so little since maternity leave sucked it all up.

I dropped off Lorelei on our way to the pediatrician. Charlotte was so blah that she was too weak to climb into her car seat. Broke my heart. The school director oh so sweetly took Charlotte to the office while I got Lorelei settled in her class (thank goodness—I couldn’t figure how I’d carry the car seat with Lorelei plus Charlotte).

The pediatrician declared Charlotte as fine; her body was simply taking its sweet time to fight this virus.

Although I debated cancelling it, I had a doctor’s appointment about an hour-and-a-half later. I had had to book it more than 2 months prior, so I decided to push through and get it over with. We killed time grabbing coffee at Panera (Mommy was sleep-deprived, with Chris suffering throughout the night). I told Charlotte she could have any pretty pastry in the display case she wanted. “I don’t want to eat,” she said, pathetically. “I want to sit.” Instead of ordering something fancy, I ordered plain coffee to speed things up and got her to a table. She immediately put her head on the table.

“Oh, hell no,” I said, and I picked up my poor girl (and my coffee) and walked her to the car. (And no, nobody opened a door for the mom carrying a 3-year-old and coffee. Why do you ask?)

After a couple minutes in the car, Charlotte decided she wanted out, so we went to Safeway, where I bought children’s ibuprofen (her pediatrician said it would make her more comfy, even sans fever) to get her through the next couple hours, and we stocked up on Gatorade for Chris to rehydrate himself. In the stationary aisle, Charlotte found a Cinderella coloring book. “Mommy, can I have this?” she asked.

“Sweetie, you can have anything you want right now. Let’s get crayons, too, okay?”

Predictably, my doctor was running late. Very late. Almost an hour late. In the exam room, Charlotte fell asleep on top of me, and I just lay back on the table as we waited. It actually worked pretty well.

At home, I tended to Chris and got Charlotte down for what became a 3-hour nap. Then I returned to pick up Lorelei.

Who was mysteriously healthy.

And thus the disease culprit, methinks.

Friday, we kept Charlotte home one more day, though she really could’ve gone to school. But I wanted to be 100% sure she was okay. So, Chris stayed home again, and I went to work.

Friday night, Chris and I sighed and tiredly high-fived. What a shit week. A shitty, shitty week. But we had come through. Hooray!

And then.

AND.

THEN.

Around 4:30 a.m., I woke up feeling nauseous. And so began a SECOND stomach virus. A slow-moving one, with ups and downs. Just when I thought I’d come through, bam! I was back in the fetal position.

Some 22 hours later, at 2:30 in the morning on SUNDAY, I finally lost it. “I can’t do it anymore!” I cried (literally).

Bless his heart, Chris started typing away on the laptop to see if our insurance company had a nurse line. (It doesn’t.) Our main question: How dehydrated must someone be to justify a trip to the ER? And more importantly, how does one survive such a car ride?

I had been going at it for 22 hours at this point.

In reality, I knew I wouldn’t go to the ER. I mean, who would watch the kids? I was just desperate for relief and grasping at straws that, in my head, looked like IV bags.

Chris—scoring oodles of “My, modern men are SO much better than the previous generation!” points from the womenfolk at church—took both children to church later on Sunday. I felt I was on the mend, but my tummy had faked me out before. Chris had to lead Sunday school, so he just kept Lorelei on his lap. As you can imagine, he had no shortage of volunteers to give him a break. Charlotte, meanwhile, went to her Sunday school class.

Before church, however, Lorelei sat neglected in her bouncer and stared at me in bed while crying, Charlotte climbed into bed and cried “Mommy! Mommy!” while bawling, because she had gotten in trouble by Daddy, and I felt so incapable of taking care of them, plus I was so SICK of feeling sick, I joined in.

Chris walked into our bedroom at this point.

“Oh good lord,” he said. “All three of my women are in tears.”

Anyway, Chris took the girls off my hands, and the break from the kids and hubbub of life happening around me did me good. I felt better. Would it stick around? Gradually, I got better and better. I called my mom to distract me and pass the time. No one interrupted. It was glorious, all things considered.

And this is where I say, OH MY GOODNESS for those who battle chronic illness. I simply cannot imagine how difficult that must be, especially with children. I cannot imagine. A stomach virus double-header had me literally crying in despair (“I thought I was better! Who gets TWO stomach bugs in a WEEK?! Why is this happening to me?!"). I have no clue what the next week will bring, but overall, my family and I are—despite the length of this post—healthy.

Sunday afternoon, I managed to return to life as usual, even taking Charlotte to a birthday party. By evening, I started to feel iffy again (but not terrible), and Chris did all the dishes AND made the next day's lunches AND made the coffee while I passed out on the couch.

Then this morning (Monday), school called me at work. Lorelei had a soupy poop. “I’m not saying it’s diarrhea,” her teacher said, “but I’m just giving you a heads-up—we already had to send two babies home.”

“CARROTS!” I screamed into the phone. "She had CARROTS for the first time yesterday, and she loved them. Ate them all! MAYBE IT'S CARROTS!"

 

"Yep, could be," her teacher said. "Honestly, I wouldn't have called were it not for the other kids." If Lorelei had another soupy poop, I'd have to go get her.

 

And probably contract the illness, right?

 

Each time my phone rang, my stomach dropped. Lorelei got through the day just fine, but Mommy felt increasingly crappy as the day passed. Oh, 5:00 couldn't come fast enough. I picked up the girls on the way home, viewing the entire school as big petri dish.

 

And so, here I am now, Monday night, feeling not terrible and not good. I have no idea what's going on in my intestines, but I want this bug GONE.

 

In the meantime, a huge side effect of these two viruses has been my milk supply. Totally drying up, which is BAD. I'm NOT ready to wean altogether. After the doozy last Monday, a friend recommended a lactation support supplement, which I bought ASAP (thank you, Amazon Prime). I was also consuming fenugreek and blessed thistle in hopes the herbal route  and saying "Ommmm" would help. Drinking enough fluids was tricky, because my tummy was so tender, but I carried on. Finally, I felt like maybe the milk was making a comeback, and that second virus hit. The dehydration just zaps the entire supply---it's simultaneously incredible and maddening.

 

Throughout the sick mommy parts, Lorelei and I became experts at the "side-lying" nursing position--something I never did before, for fear of falling asleep and rolling over my child. Well, when you've got a stomach bug, it's your only option. In a way, it was sweet--my nausea held reasonably well to get the deed done each time. On one of the evening nursings--it must've been Saturday--Lorelei was pretty much passed out in her post-feeding coma, and I was exhausted and snuggled up with her. All was okay. It felt like despite the sheer crap going on, everything was really okay. And then Chris had to take her to put her down, and for some reason, her leaving my side just devastated me. Putting her down was MY thing, and I couldn't do it.

 

I was tired and drained. Obviously.

 

So, I guess I'll end there! Chris read this while I checked on Lorelei and informed me that it's long and choppy, and a quick proofread determined he's absolutely right.

 

We hope for settled tummies and no phone calls from school tomorrow. That is all.