Yesterday morning, Zuzu woke up ay 6:30am. This is a little early for her. She started squawking in her bassinet, and I lazily rolled across the bed to get ready to pick her up.
Then she spit up.
Zuzu is not a spitty baby at all. I can probably count on one hand the number of times she's spit up any kind of significant amount (her biggest spit up ever was on our friend Vicky when she was two weeks old--I'm sure Vicky appreciates that fine distinction).
Anyway, the spit up kind of unnerved me because it's a rare thing, and she hadn't eaten since 2am.
My tired brain was trying to figure out why this would happen and the room was still pretty dark, so I couldn't see if it was a lot of spit or just a little. And then she spit up again.
She wasn't really crying or anything, but I was freaking out. I quickly picked her up and then she spit up down the front of me. So I yelled for David and he came hurrying in and told me to quit freaking out because I was going to scare the baby.
I got a hold of myself and we changed her diaper and her clothes and took her temperature (it was normal) and I fed her and she didn't spit up anymore. She seemed her usually happy, chatty self, so after much internal debate, I decided that I'd go ahead and take her to daycare.
She was asleep in carseat when we arrived. I told her teachers about the spit up situation and they promised to keep a close eye on her. I headed to work.
When I called later to check on her, I learned that one of her teachers was out for the day (with a stomach bug) and Zuzu had thrown up on herself in her carseat. At that moment, I was ready to leap up from my desk and go get her, but her teacher assured me that Zuzu seemed to be feeling ok and was having normal diapers. I asked if she'd been fussy and the teacher told me that she only got upset when a substitute teacher came in the room to help out. Zuzu let this substitute teacher hold her, but would cry anytime she looked at her. The teacher was laughing when she told me about it--I think she liked that Zuzu so clearly expresses her preference for her regular teachers. I know I liked hearing that--I mean, I think it's a good thing that Zuzu is already attached to the teachers she sees everyday. She assured me that Zuzu was doing just fine.
About this time I got a text from one of my BFFs telling me that she was home from work with a stomach flu. Not good. I worried about this as I sat down to have a quick lunch at my desk and realized that I didn't have much of an appetite (which is VERY unusual for me).
I made it through my afternoon meetings, feeling a little queasy and worrying that the baby might be getting sick, and then left work about 2:30pm to pick Zuzu up at daycare.
By this time, the daycare had signs up about a stomach virus going around. Cue freak out!
But Zuzu was happy to see me, had taken both of her bottles without spitting up again, and was perfectly cheerful.
I decided I wasn't taking any chances with this virus, though, so once we got home I started the laundry and began washing all her blankets, her car seat liner, the sheets from the crib and the pack & play, the liner of her bassinet, and the soft toys we'd played with the night before. I sprayed doorknobs and plastic toys with Lysol spray. And I gave the baby a bath and put her in comfy pjs.
When I sat down to breastfeed her, I was exhausted. And I had to admit that I wasn't feeling very good.
Normally I'm starving for a mid-afternoon snack by the time I get home from work, and despite eating very little for lunch, I hadn't even thought about a snack. The idea of dinner made me queasy.
By the time David got home from work, I was collapsed on the couch, watching the baby entertain herself on the floor. She seemed fine, but I kept worrying that she was sick. I told David, "If I were a stay at home mom, she wouldn't be sick."
The thing is, she didn't seem sick at all. But I was feeling worse.
After feeling queasy and vaguely unpleasant all evening, I puked before we went to bed, got up at 11:30pm for more puking, and spent most of the night awake and miserable on the couch with a fever.
We all had to stay home from work today because my breastpump is at work so I have to have the baby here to feed her (I'm also not thrilled about sending her back to daycare until this virus thing somewhat resolves itself), but I feel so miserable that I couldn't take care of her by myself (I've only managed to drag myself off the couch to go to the bathroom and that was exhausting). David just brings her to me when she needs to eat and I lie around whining and feeling sick.
Zuzu's tummy troubles seem to have cleared up completely, but mine have knocked me on my ass.
I told a friend a few days ago that in a very Bridget-Jones-ish way, I kept thinking that I was just one good stomach bug away from fitting into my jeans.
I take it back. I hate the muffin top, but I hate puking even more.
And is it just me, or does this virus seems to be rampaging across the country? A few different blogs I read have mentioned having tummy trouble of various levels of disgustingness. Nothing like a good gut-purge to get you ready to binge at Thanksgiving, I guess.
Mostly, I'm relieved that the baby is fine. But I'm also really hoping that I'm on the mend. I don't think I can handle another sleepless, puke-filled night.
It's such a cliche to get sick after sending your kid to daycare. It's also really super gross. My immune system needs to catch up with my new germ-infested life, stat.