Vomit

On the day after New Years, Elliot got sick.

I remember the day exactly, because it was supposed to be Hannah's day off.  The daycare was open, but her work was not.  So she got a day to herself.  And she was excited about it.

But around 8 in the morning, on that day after New Years, Elliot threw up.  It was a small one, so she kept preparing him for daycare: the jacket, the baby backpack, etc. Then on the way to daycare, he barfed again.  

So -- to her inestimable credit -- she turned around and took him home.  On her one day off.  And took care of him all day while he vomited all over her.

I didn't really understand how serious this was until a few days later, when he vomited on me while I was trying to put him to sleep.  It's a terrifying experience.

In my case, Elliot was in my arms in the darkened room where he sleeps, and I had given him a far-too-full bottle of rice milk.  He chugged the whole thing down, and since his eyes were closed I stupidly just slapped him on his belly in his crib.  After a few seconds, he coughed once and sprayed a little squirt of vomit on the mattress.  The room began to smell of almonds.

I quickly picked him up, but it was too late.  As I held him against me, he sprayed a viscous white liquid across my shirt and pants.  It spattered onto my forearms, my hands, flecks of it on my neck and biceps.  It seemed for one horrible second like he was emptying out all the fluid in his little body.  I had the irrational impulse to clap my hand over his mouth, so that he would keep some liquid inside him.

Hannah tells me I screamed.  I remember it as a calm "Can I get some help here?" spoken through a crack in the door.  But even now I can remember the hint of panic that was creeping into my voice toward the end of the sentence: "Can I get, some, Help, IN, HERE?"

He got better.  Slowly.  As I write this, over a week later, he is still fussy and not sleeping well.  I'm sitting on the couch, listening to him cough.  It sounds wet and awful, but so far he's still asleep.

If he wakes up and cries, I'm going to go in and perch my bony butt on the diaper bin and rub my hand across his back.  And rub and rub and rub.  It has nothing to do with his lungs or his stomach, but I'm going to do it anyway.