This last week has been exhausting. I mean, life in general right about now is a little on the exhausting side - two active toddlers coupled with being six months pregnant. But, when illness strikes, exhaustion takes on a whole new meaning.
It started last Tuesday when Ben woke up from a four-hour afternoon nap (which is quite a bit longer than normal) and was extra cuddly. I noticed his little body was generating more heat than it should and just let him rest in my arms while we watched some Curious George. As soon as Marc was done with work for the day, he took my place on the couch while I headed into the kitchen to get dinner started. Within maybe ten minutes Ben was throwing up all over himself, the couch, and Marc.
Before bedtime he had thrown up one more time and his fever persisted. But, fortunately, he was holding water down. The night that followed was long and uncomfortable for the little guy. We took turns responding to his cries and with each check on him, that darn fever wasn't showing any sign of breaking. Finally, by the time morning arrived his fever was gone and he was mostly back to his normal, active self.
We initially felt relieved that Hugh wasn't showing any sign of being sick. Then, Thursday morning came with Hugh feeling feverish and miserable all the day long. No appetite, no interest in anything, no energy whatsoever. He would accept water to drink, but shook his head in refusal to anything else we offered. Maybe that was the secret to the absence of any vomiting.
Friday morning, and throughout the weekend, both boys seemed back to normal health again and I was relieved their episodes were relatively short-lived. I was more than a little shocked when I went to drop Ben off at his Early Start playgroup on Monday morning and while helping him get settled, I found myself catching his unexpected vomit in my cupped hands. Luckily we were standing by the sink, so I dumped and when back to catch more as he continued to heave over and over again. I felt so terrible. He had been a little more clingy that morning, but I attributed it to him waking up earlier than usual and just having a harder time getting started.
After getting him cleaned up, I brought him back home, where we spent the entire day snuggled on the couch and his little body refused to hold down anything I tried to feed him. Hugh kept himself busy with an old cell phone, pretending to talk to BaPa and GG, no doubt wishing like I was that they would hurry and come home from their trip to visit my brother and his family.
Today, once again, the morning greeted us with two little boys who seemed back to normal health and activity, but I'm feeling a little skeptical and on guard, just in case tomorrow morning comes with another unwelcome illness, bent on knocking us down once and for all.
On a somewhat related note, I did notice that Ben is just starting to cut the first of his two-year old molars. Is there any chance that vomiting/fevers are related to cutting molars?