Gratitude in Vomit

Yesterday, December 7th, 2011--a day which will live in infamy--Ireland was suddenly and deliberately attacked by viral forces from the empire of pneumonia.
It began as a somewhat typical day. Brent showered and dressed for work and then offered to take Ireland while I got ready. Liesel was still asleep which was a little odd but hey, I'm not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth! Ireland was extremely lethargic, wheezy and cuddly which is atypical behavior these days. Brent noticed she seemed sick and asked if he should request to work from home. I firmly told him no. I could handle one sick child on my own, right? Turns out Ireland had something to say about that. She vomited 4 times all over Brent from his head to his shoes and then some. When it was all over she pointed a shaky finger at the mess and pitifully squeaked out "ewe!" I jumped in the shower with Ireland while Brent stripped, scrubbed and garbage-bagged everything else. He was definitely staying home.

A call to the pediatrician's office led us straight to the ER. I've been told by a number of medical professionals the best time to visit the ER is in the morning. It's the least busy because people figure if they've made it though the night, they're going to be okay. With timing on our side, we were triaged pretty quickly. All in all, we still spent a couple of hours there and believe me, it was no picnic. The staff was wonderful but lets face it, Ireland was miserable. After they sucked her nose to test for RSV, she begged for her coat. When Ireland asks for her coat, it's her way of saying, "I quit this job, I'm outta here!" The last 20 minutes of our visit she fell asleep in my arms, exhausted from the sickness and all the prodding.

Our RN brought in toys to keep Ireland occupied. She looked
SO tiny in that big hospital room!

Brent picked up Liesel from preschool and looped by the ER to get us. I gave him as many details as I could remember about all the treatments and procedures she'd gone through (including a breathalyzer and x-rays). I tried to describe what the image of her lungs looked like and what the dr. told me to watch for in the next little while. When we pulled up to the apartment, Liesel opened her door and then got a funny look on her face. She vomited all over the car, the street, and me and then burst into tears. I quickly called the pediatrician's office (again), added my pukey clothes to the garbage bag, and jumped in a bath with her (my second of the day). Luckily, Liesel wasn't having any of the wheezing issues so we just hunkered down for the day. By evening the apartment was a huge mess but everyone was feeling a little better.

Even baby hospital gowns leave your bum hanging out!
Thank goodness she could still wear a diaper.

As hard as it was to see Ireland and Liesel suffering, I'm so very grateful I can be home with them. I remember the dreaded calls at work telling me Liesel was sick and needed to be picked up right away. More than anything, I wanted to BE there for her! But so many times I had to call Brent to see if his afternoon had any huge meetings in them like mine or worse, I had to call a friend. I'm so grateful to be the one stroking back their hair and caressing their cheeks, whispering it will all be okay. I'm happy to pick up the ginger ale and make beds on the couch so they can quietly watch The Muppets as they doze. I'm also grateful for my wise husband who decided to work from home for a day :)