The first time a baby throws up is not the best milestone. Here is our story of a not so fabulous first time vomiting.
Last night we checked off another item on our list of “Firsts” for Annabelle. This “First” wasn’t anything fun. It wasn’t fancy. It wasn’t something to celebrate. This first was one of those bad firsts that won’t be a first, since I am sure it will happen a billion more times in the future – which doesn’t make it any easier to handle in the moment.
I woke up to her whining. She had been up 3 times since I put her to bed, but she always fell back to sleep without me even walking in the nursery. This time it was different… she was whining and whimpering. As I walked into her nursery, she started to cough. And then she vomited. All. Over. Herself. And she vomited again on her bunny. And again on me. And again on herself.
There is nothing fabulous about baby’s first time vomiting.
She was crying, with yucky throw up all over her face, and looking at me those big brown eyes asking for me to help her. And I couldn’t. There was nothing I could do except tell her it was going to be OK and rub her little back.
B and I cleaned her up and brought her into our room. She was whimpering and rubbing her face on my chest, so I figured she was probably hungry. I nursed her a little… then she sat up, started crying, and vomited ALL. OVER. ME. and the bed and herself and the pillows and her blanket.
We stripped the bed, changed her, cleaned her and myself up, and then spent an hour trying to calm her down. We went to the guest room. She tried to nurse, so I gave her just a little …and she fell asleep. Just as I was drifting off to sleep… she threw up again. Everywhere.
It’s so hard to see your baby sick for the first time.
As I write this, I am running on about 1 hour of sleep. I had to come to work today – and my heart is aching that I can’t be home with my sweet sick girl. I think it’s safe to say that aside from seeing your child hurt, watching them throw up is one of the most pitiful and painful things ever. There was nothing I could do for her – except refuse to nurse her, since my Mom told me to never give a baby milk when they’re vomiting. I vaguely remember throwing up once in the middle of the night as a child. My mom came running in the room and I just cried harder, wanting her to make it stop. Moms and Dads are supposed to make it all better, aren’t they?
As I held her in my lap, rocking together in the nursery at 4 o’clock this morning, she gripped my arms so tightly as if she thought I might put her down. I sang all the songs I could sing, and rubbed her back, and prayed that her little belly would get better. She cried a little, and finally fell asleep. I sat there looking at her beautiful face, wishing I could make her feel better, knowing that I couldn’t.
So here’s to a first: throwing up in all the beds in the house, all over Mommy, and all over herself. Hopefully Daddy will bring her to the doctors and she will be feeling better when I get home at 5 tonight.