Strawberry Milk

I don’t even know where to start.
 
On Sunday, Georgia turned 18 months old, and I was beyond ecstatic.  We have worked so hard to get to this point, between therapy 3x a week, to millions of doctor’s visits and tests and sleepless nights.
Monday was going to be the beginning of a renewed start.  I woke up early, and fed Georgia breakfast.  We got to our physical therapy appointment on time, and we were with our regularly scheduled therapist.  I was ready, therefore Georgia was ready, right?
Wrong.  The appointment felt like a big disappointment.  Georgia wouldn’t participate.  She cried non-stop, only giving reprieve when I would put some YouTube on for her.  Everyone was watching, and the mom-guilt was filling me quickly.  Did they think I was an awful mom because I couldn’t get her to calm down?  Did they think I was a bad mom because I resorted to using YouTube?  Did I fail her somehow because she wouldn’t participate?  I felt awful.  Plus, the therapist discussed Georgia needed special equipment, and that always gets me a little sad… I drove home beating myself up for the whole event.
 
When we got home, she was back to her happy self… playful & smiling.  I packed her up to go to her eye appointment next.  When we arrived, she was sleeping soundly.  As I moved her from the carseat, I smelled it, poop.  Dang.  Now the debate of whether or not to wake the sleeping dragon with the diaper full of poop.  I decided to wait since we were at her appointment anyways, and that would wake her up.
 
When we get called back, I realize I forgot her diaper bag…. back out we go, and more of me feeling like I failed somehow because how could I forget the diaper bag?!?  And everyone is now staring again… yikes.  Atleast the doctor said she saw significant improvement in Georgia’s sight.
 
My husband & youngest stepson met us at the office, and we left from there to get dinner.  Georgia wouldn’t stay calm there either, unless I put Mickey Mouse on my phone.  Ughhhhhhh.  How do I get my non-verbal toddler to not be an asshole in public?!?
 
Then to my dad’s; Georgia behaved reasonably well.  We get home, we do dinner, all is well.  Then onto bath time.  She’s getting fussy, but she’s also tired, so that’s normal. I step out for a second to ask my husband a question, turn around, and Georgia is covered in vomit.
She’s still vomiting.  She choking.  I yell for my husband.  The rest is kind of a blur.  I can’t remember if he grabbed her or if I did.  He kept asking if she went under, and I kept saying there was no way, she was sitting straight up, she wasn’t strong enough to go under & come back up on her own.  We aren’t arguing but the stress is awful.  I’m trying to hold her in the sink and clean off the vomit.  She’s still vomiting, awful & violent.  I’m covered and she’s covered and my husband is trying to rinse out the tub.
 
I make the decision to take her into her room & try to suction her clean.  Luckily, I had just replaced all the parts of our suction machine, and was petrified that somehow she had gotten vomit into her airways.  I’m suctioning and panicking and ask Patrick to hold her while I call the pediatrician after-hours line.  I’m trying to relay the info while Patrick is trying to keep Georgia upright.  After I get off the phone, I decide we should try cleaning her up.  I change my shirt, and walk her into the bathroom.  Immediately, I can feel the cramps in her.  She’s going to vomit again.  I hold her over the toilet because I don’t know what else to do, as she violently vomits over and over again.  She has NEVER thrown up like this.  I put her back in the sink & try cleaning her up again, as my husband and I go back & forth on what to do.  Back to her room we go, to suction again.  I call his cousin who happens to be a PA for our pediatrician.  I explain everything, and she thinks maybe just a stomach virus of some sort that needs to run it’s course.  I’m still freaking out.  I’m a first-time mom and my daughter is special needs… I feel like I’m entitled to be extra paranoid.
 
My husband decides we should try to clean her up again in the bath, but in her room this time.  He sets her up, and I start washing her… then I feel the cramps again.  More vomit. She vomits on me as I run down the hall and to the bathroom.  Now it’s just bile.  My poor baby!
 
The after-hours call service calls at this moment, and I tell them to please have the doctor call us.  I wipe Georgia down, and go to atleast get a diaper on her.  She is shaking, so I wrap her in a blanket.  The doctor calls, but Georgia starts to gag again.  I take her and my husband takes the phone.  Georgia is dry heaving & screaming in frustration.  My heart is breaking.  I hold her to my chest when she is done, and just rock her in her room until she falls asleep.
Husband says the doctor thinks it may just pass; try to push fluids.  My baby is so exhausted, I won’t move her from my chest.  My husband takes a shower as I rock her.  He takes my place so I can shower… I didn’t even wash my hair.  I just knew she needed me.
 
She wakes up shortly after and is miserable.  She doesn’t want to be held, but she doesn’t want us to leave her either.  My husband and I take turns patting her back & rubbing her head as she sleeps.  In the morning, she wakes up, still refusing to eat.  I call the pediatrician who recommends not giving dairy for the day.  Her diet is primarily formula powder mixed with whole milk.  It wouldn’t matter anyways, because Georgia will not take any bottles.  Thankfully, we have been practicing using cups, so she does take somewhat efficient sips of Pedialyte from a cup.  My husband and I continue to take turns with her, holding her, watching Moana, giving her Pedialyte.  She is gassy & starts to have diarrhea.  Her temperature increases, and I’m scared she’s getting dehydrated.  We go almost 12 hours without a wet diaper, before she finally takes a bottle of formula around 8pm.  She falls asleep in my arms.
 
My husband and I are watching TV when I hear one of our dogs go running down our hallway into Georgia’s room, into her baby gate, slamming it shut.  Hubby gets up, and I hear Georgia start screaming.  My husband goes running, and then I hear the pulse ox.  BEEP BEEEP BEEEEEEP… Her O2 is down to 76 & her heart rate is at 170!  I scream at my husband to pick her up now!!!! Immediately her sats start to return to normal, but she smells like vomit.  The dog must have sensed it, weirdly enough.  The rest of the night my husband and I take turns holding her, rocking her, attempting to comfort her as she cries.  She takes another bottle of formula, but still is fighting sleep.  She looks exhausted, but just can’t seem to get comfortable.  At 2am, I cave & give her some Benadryl.  She finally falls asleep.
 
So now it’s Wednesday and we haven’t slept well in three days.  Georgia still wasn’t eating well today, and I spent the day incredibly stressed about it.  On a whim, I decided to try a different toddler specific formula that is strawberry flavored…
 
She chugged it.
 
Sometimes our kids are so complicated & sometimes, they are just kids, who like strawberry milk.

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