*Phew.* We survived. I suppose we were lucky to make it two and a half years as parents before the first time a kid woke us up in the middle of the night by vomiting everywhere. I would just like to take a moment here to say: my husband is phenomenal. Seriously, father of the year over here. We have a deal that I get up whenever Eleanor needs me during the night (usually 2-3 times to nurse) and he gets up if Zoey needs us. Most of the time she’s solidly asleep for a good 11-12 hours and Zach gets a decent night of sleep. Saturday morning Zoey started crying at 4am and Zach went down to help her. Forty-five minutes later he comes trudging into our room along with Zoey and her little couch that folds out into a bed with a built-in sleeping bag and informs me that she just threw up. Three times. Zoey would now be joining us in our room for closer observation and comfort. I wearily hauled myself out of bed and said, “Ok, get her settled and I’ll go clean up,” as I envisioned the vomit soaked sheets, carpet and who knows what else that awaited me. “I already did it” Zach replied.
Zach then proceeded to do a full ninety percent of the caring for and cleaning up after Zoey as she vomited through most of the next twenty hours. Never a single word about how gross it was, or a single hint that he would like me to come take over for awhile. I took care of nursing Eleanor and did my best to avoid Zoey’s germs (while continuing to provide loving mommy support, of course). Eleanor also seemed to be coming down with something and wanted to sleep more than usual. I am only slightly ashamed to say that I took full advantage of this situation and used the time to do some sewing. In my defense, the projects I chose were a surprise for Zoey’s Easter basket and a cover for Zach’s Kindle. See – I can think of the needs of others too. Especially when I’m far away from their germs.
Sadly, despite the fact that Zach was elbows-deep in Zoey’s germs and I was keeping as much distance as possible and furiously wiping everything with Lysol, I still got sick. And Zach didn’t. Because the universe thinks that’s hilarious. Anyway, long story short: Zach took two days off work to care for the kids while I vomited so much I lost 8 POUNDS and then a third day off of work because aforementioned vomiting + breastfeeding = so dehydrated I spent a whole day in bed because the world would start spinning in six directions every time I sat up.
So. That happened. On the bright side, I really needed some kind of jump start on the baby weight loss since that had plateaued awhile ago. The noticeably diminished (but still present) muffin-top just *might* be worth it. Maybe.