Vomit central.

For the last 10 months I kept wondering how I would react when Isabelle got sick...I mean more than just a little cold. Well now I know. Since Monday around noon she has been throwing up on and off (the first night was really bad) and refusing to eat anything but a few Cheerios. She won't drink Pedialyte or any sportsdrinks or juices. She will drink some water and some formula. Of course tonight after she drank 4 tiny ounces of formula (this is the child after all that could regularly consume 10-12 ounces at 3 months old) she promptly projectile vomited out onto the sofa.

I am going to take her to the doctor tomorrow if I can get her in. She has no fever and is, strangely, still in good spirits and playful - but throwing up for 48 hours just seems like too much to me.

We think it was the cheese. Isabelle eats string cheese a few times a day. Last night Paul ate some string cheese too. And this morning he commenced vomiting. Hence - Vomit Central. Now I know these aren't "real" problems and they will both be fine, but its still sucks. Not to mention work is crazy and I already had planned working over the weekend....sigh.

It's funny how even a tiny sickness can make you worry so much when it's your child. I am not sure how people who have seriously ill children do it. They are made of stronger stuff than I am.

Tomorrow morning I am hoping to take ITL to the doctor. We were supposed to be meeting with our attorney to get our will written and guardianship papers done. Paul and I have always had wills and I have never thought twice about it. But writing a will and having guardianship papers drawn when you have a baby makes it all seem so real. Death, the fragility of life, it becomes more profound.

The idea of Paul and I dying and having to leave Isabelle breaks my heart, yes. But when our lawyer asked about what we wanted in the event of a "catastrophic" event - all three of us dying - my mind switched to the morose. Thinking of something catastrophic happening to Isabelle makes me feel claustrophobic. Like I am wrapped tighly in heavy dark sheets, blind, and can't breath. Sometimes I torment myself with such thoughts and I don't know why. I have talked to Amy and Maggie and apparently such thoughts are not unique to me. Maybe its the mother lion instinct. If you worry your senses are more sharp, your protective thoughts more keen. I don't know.


Okay, sorry about the heavy message. I am tired and stressed and smell of baby vomit (dude - what goes on in their tiny tummies that can make vomit smell like rotten goat cheese fermented in bile on a hot day???).


Here are some pictures of ITL enjoying her bath. She LOVES the bath. Drinks the bath water, splashes, squeals and generally has a smashing time. It's like a carnival ride for babies.