Friday, December 19, 2008


Yesterday just before noon on our way to a cookie party & book exchange, Little Girl starting vomiting. I was just hitting the exit for our destination, heard a gag, and witnessed a massive amount of regurgitated cheese crackers spewing forth, splattering, sticking....
My little truck, no longer the vomit virgin. (The only other time this happened it was a rental vehicle.)

Some days it seems she barely needs me at all, except just to know I'm there. Other days it seems she can't do anything without me. Then there are the days like yesterday. These are days when an immense amount of mommin' know-how is suddenly crammed into the space of a few hours. There's the absolute heart wrenching stress of watching my child dry heave bodily, vomit spasmodically, and there's nothing I can do about it. "Maamaa I neeedt heeallp," she wimpers, I am powerless. Other than hold her hair back, a cool hand on her forehead, rub her back, and assure her that it will pass eventually.

It just so happens that there is a Target at that particular exit. Thank you god-the-universe! Here's how it went. Find parking spot with plenty of room either side. Work to clean babe up as much as possible with wipes already in car. Not too successful. No extra clothes, lovely welcoming Target, I know I can get whatever I need in there. Half-trot with nauseous vomit covered toddler through parking lot to basket, jog into store directly to restroom, she said she needed to potty. "Do you need to vomit? or do you need to poop?" 'cause I know the inevitable end to vomiting is diarrhea or angry poop of some kind or another. Post bathroom trip, back in a basket, frantic trip directly to Toddler aisle for reserve clothing (the one day I haven't had clothes in reserve in the car). Desperate search for semi-correct size, something suitable for the chill weather, briefly consider a whole new coat, decide it's not that cold, turtle neck will do. Poor Little One starts dry heaving, spitting in the basket, grab the already destroyed sweater she was wearing, prop it under her....briefly look around in a PANIC, rake my hand over my forehead, big breath, ok, what's next? I almost burst into tears right there. A bit later I was struck with the vision I must have made to the only other woman in the area, a very pregnant woman. I wonder if that is her first baby. I think, wow, if I saw that scene (mom in a panic with vomiting child) when I was pregnant, I think I might have had some serious emotions surface.

SO, zoomed to infants grabbed cheap blankets, snatched some chlorox wipes for the car, she says she needs to potty again. Zoom to the checkout, thank the goodness for express lane. Then rush back into the bathroom for more certain cleanup and change. Post cleanup & change, decide I need a small bucket for her to vomit in as we are at least one hour from home. Went to the exact wrong end of the store. All Targets are slightly different, the same but different, on purpose probably so that you're more exposed to all those goodies they really want us to buy. At this point I'm out of breath from speed-walking carrying Fiona, the vomit-clothing filled bag, the pedialyte I grabbed, and still panicky trying to find the damned cleaning buckets. She starts to vomit again. I'm really at my wits end at this point. FINALLY, I ask for help. Caught a nearby mom's eye at the end of the aisle, "Are there Target people just around the corner???" Fiona is on hands and knees on the floor, heaving her guts out. Bless that mom and her kids, bless the two young women that helped me. One jogged across the store to get a bucket, the other took me up front, opened a register for me, and gave me a giant roll of bathroom paper towels. Bless them all. God bless Target!

In the parking lot, poor sick Little Girl continues to vomit into the bucket, although not much else was produced. I cleaned her carseat, spot cleaned much as possible the car, cheapo blanket thing in the seat and as a bib under her buckles. Towels line the bucket so absorbent, not to spill, explain very clearly that if she needs to vomit in the car to grab the bucket. She only used it one time before she fell asleep. *massive sigh* Call the doctor for information and instructions.

Talking it out with a good friend on the way home. Discuss the mother's love that endures for children. How painful and scary it is, cuts to my core, to see my daughter in pain, asking for help, and I can do nothing but love her and support her. We love them this much. We would gladly take all their pain away endure it 3 times over, but that is not reality, that is not life's true way. A mommy's love is purposeful, powerful, it has to be this way. It's a good thing, too, because the day before, Toddleator spent a solid 20 minutes flailing, screaming over and over, "NOOO!! I DON'T WANT MAMA!" I was so irritated I had to wait outside the car for a bit before I attempted driving anywhere. Kids Club must've been rip-roarin' hootenanny that day, she only wanted to go home with Miss D. Mortifying somewhat, entirely different kind of heart-wrench.

So it goes. I can't wait to see what happens next! :)
We gear up for Christmas, time of rebirth, celebration, and giving. Wishing not but sunshiny snow, holly and evergreens to everyone!

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