Lila the Geyser

Upon becoming a mother, you have a lot of expectations.

You expect to love your baby.

You expect to get no sleep for a while.

You expect to see a lot of bodily excretions.

I was fine with poopy diapers. I was fine with baby spit up.

But I can't handle vomit. And Lila is on Day 3 of vomiting.

I don't know if it's the vomit itself that churns my stomach or if it's the fact that vomit is a sure fire indicator that your child is really sick. Maybe it's the fact that I am aware of the highly contagious nature of a stomach illness and the propensity that it may spread to me, my other children, or worse--me and my other children at.the.same.time.

Another learning curve this go around--I've never had one of my children vomiting at such a young age. Lila is 10 months, and the youngest age that one of my children first got the stomach bug was 17 months (Mason, only weeks before Cole's birth. He also got it again when Cole was two weeks old, and again when Cole was a month old. That was one period in my life where I literally questioned God if I was going to survive). So again, I am humbled by my "the more kids I have the less I know" philosophy.

Anyhow, I've been working through the aforementioned learning curve. Trying to keep her hydrated with Pedialite, carefully rationing it so as to hopefully avert another bout of vomiting.

I officially declare the saddest scene in the world is when a 15 pound ten month old baby is dry heaving into the bathroom sink. The feeling of her wrenching body in my arms, the look of sadness, pain, confusion, and panic on her face, coupled with the sight of a body that's practically in convulsions... well it could bring a grown man to tears.