The puking started at 8:00 last night. Amelia was first. Ella followed at 11pm. By 2 am, I was on the couch, crying. Amelia couldn’t even take sips of water without it coming back up. She was laying against my chest “na-na, peese” just whining and whining. She wanted so desparately to nurse but every time she did up until about 4pm this afternoon, she would throw it up. My poor babies. And, for that matter, poor mama.
But no puke since this afternoon. Kyle is my family doctor. He has been ever since I was single and childless. He also was the birth attendant for Will and Ella. He also goes to my church. But that part was a fluke. We didnt’ know that he went there when we became members. The girls and I were supposed to go to his house for supper and when I called to cancel, he said “would you like to bring some pedialyte over and check on the girls?” Who does that?? It was a friend bringing provisions but also a real MD who declared that they would most likely be over it by tomorrow and they looked hydrated and on the mend. I tell you, it was better than a xanax. It was exactly what a tired, worried mama needed to hear. And I think he knew it. I was crying and thinking “How can I do this? I can’t do this alone.” And what happens when they do get dehyrated (by they, I mean Amelia) and end up at the hospital? I hope we never have to go there again. I’d have to choose the other hospital which I don’t like. It won’t come to that of course. Not this time. But, chances are, at some point it will. What then?
It’s no use worrying about things that haven’t happened but you know how your thoughts get away from you when it’s so late.
I’m off to bed. We’re all tucked in for the night and I sincerely hope that my kidlets aren’t nauseated by the smell of clean sheets.