Yesterday I came home from work to a sick baby. I knew he wasn’t feeling well as my husband had texted me earlier in the day to tell me that the baby had thrown up all over the living room carpet. Twice.
When I got home I went right to him and picked him up (the baby, not my vomit covered husband). He smiled at me and then puked up cottage cheese and oranges all down my blouse.
He puked up all that he had to puke, and then tried to puke some more. This was the sickest he’s ever been and it was so hard seeing him this way.
So I did the only thing I could do: cuddles. Lots and lots of cuddles.
After I changed we lay on the couch together watching a terrible movie and he fell asleep on my chest. I brought him upstairs, changed him into his pajamas and laid him in his crib while I set up our bedroom, preparing for the inevitable co-sleeping.
My husband put the mattress on the floor while I took a much needed shower. I had time to have three bites of pizza before I heard him cry out, cough, then cry out some more. So I went get him and brought him to bed with me.
I don’t know if you’ve ever been in this situation, but sleeping with a sick baby is not a good time.
He’s loud, he moves around so much (at one point he sleep crawled off the mattress and sat on the floor next to it – hence why we put it on the floor!), and he was puking on and off all night long.
I’m just so glad that I could be there to rub his back and give him cuddles.
I’m also glad that I have an understanding boss who doesn’t mind if I show up 1.5 hours late to work.
My husband reports that he’s feeling better today – thank god! Seeing him like that really broke my heart.