Poor Jack was really sick this weekend. He started vomiting on Wednesday, then couldn't keep any food or drink down at all. Friday morning, he was really listless and lethargic. He'd take a few steps and fall flat on his face. We brought him in to the doctor, and she said that he was severly dehydrated. He'd need IV fluids.
As hard as it is to find a vein on chubby little baby arms, it's even harder when that baby is dehydrated. Lots of poking, prodding, and screaming later, the nurses threw in the (blood-soaked) towel. We had to hold Jack for about two hours giving him diluted apple juice through a syringe to get some liquid in his body. Thank Yoda he managed to keep that down, because then they were able to find a vein. I held Jack while he got his IV. He had a hard time with it all, but Steve and I did our best to keep him calm by singing to him, putting on a Little Mermaid DVD, and encouraging him to be "strong like Wolverine."
The whole ordeal was really, really hard. I won't exactly say I was worried about him- I understood what was wrong and that he'd get better. But it was hard seeing my happy, energetic little guy just staring into space. Having to feed him like a baby bird. And having to tell a little baby to be brave.
The good news is that he made a miraculous recovery. By Saturday night, he was back to his old self again. We went out to dinner, and Jack, dressed in his HANDSOME DEVIL t-shirt, flirted with women. Then he proceeded to eat as much food as Steve and I were willing to share with him.
Yesterday, I wound up with a lesser version of what he had. I felt like absolute hell, and I hadn't gone for days without eating, so I shudder to think how Jack was feeling. For the moment, we are all healthy at Stately Wasser Manor. I really hope that Steve doesn't get it too, especially since his birthday is tomorrow.