A rollercoaster weekend, followed by a nightmarish couple of days... Sometimes things need to get a whole lot worse before you realise that maybe they weren't so bad before! After our day in hospital last week I was hugely worried - stressed - anxious - reading everything I could lay my hands on on the internet about pyloric stenosis, and completely unable to deal with the fact that there was nothing I could do apart from sit and wait. I was utterly convinced that despite his weight gain and seeming good health, he was experiencing the early stages of the disorder and the thought of what lay ahead was horrific. I think I worried myself into a frenzy, and by the end of the weekend was in quite a state and utterly exhausted. Then I reasoned with myself that maybe my perception of 'projectile' wasn't quite the same as the medical definition. I read something that said a baby can bring back a feed quite forcefully and if he's over your shoulder it can travel quite a distance. That made sense. Perhaps he is over-eating? That coupled with the reflex... he'd been a lot better, and the propping his cot and changing mat seemed to have helped. So I finally calmed down a bit.
Went to the health visitor on Monday and had him weighed. He was 3 oz heavier than he had been on Thursday, so above the 98th centile. She reassured me a bit about reflux/colic. Just bear with it, it will get better seemed to be the advice. So reassured on the pyloric stenosis front I then went into over-drive worried about why he wakes every morning at around 5am, is sick, and there is foul-smelling mucous in evidence. Convinced he had some infection perhaps related to the Group B Strep. or perhaps just something different I made another GP appointment and was reassured on that front yesterday. No infection as no temperature or signs of illness e.g. lack of wet or dirty nappies, reluctance to feed etc. He's fine.
He was, but on Monday afternoon as I got back from the Health Visitor Elizabeth wasn't. She woke up from her afternoon nap screaming, Dad went up to see to her as I had Edward. He called down "She's been sick" and the sight as I dashed up there was not pleasant. I tried to mop her down, and put the bedding straight into the wash. She sat and had a smoothie, then I took her upstairs and wrapped her in a blanket as she was shaking. She sat on the nursery chair and I read to her, then the next thing I knew the smoothie was being projectile vomited back at me. More washing into the wash... We both had to strip off. As husband arrived the remnants of the smoothie were making an appearance, and thankfully Edward stayed asleep.
She had a bath, then drank some water (in hindsight too much too quickly) then went to bed only to throw up all over the bed (again!) a few minutes later. Bed stripped, her stripped down to her vest she finally went to bed at around 8pm, with husband stroking her back, her head clamped in a bowl.
Although writing it now it doesn't sound so bad, at the time it was quite frightening. She hasn't been sick since she was 7 months old, so a completely different ball game then. I've since looked up what to do (and what not to do) and hopefully should that nightmare re-occur at least it won't be as frightening. We coped yesterday by tentatively giving her toast, then hot cross buns, apple and banana, then by tea-time she was back on normal food.
No comments:
Post a Comment