Thursday, July 11, 2013

Ground Zero of Baby Throw Up

In the past week my baby has decided to throw up twice.  The whole experience of a baby throwing up is totally weird.  For example, in one moment your baby goes from this adorable, fun loving little person to a monster experiencing an exorcism.  Honestly, this morning she was in a mid-laugh, when all of the sudden, she stopped, looked at me and then enough liquid to fill a bathtub came out. As it was going on I just kept screaming, "Bad spirit be gone...be gone!"

Secondly, when a baby throws up it's like being at ground zero of a bomb explosion.  First, I assess if there are any survivors.  Did the vomit actually get my entire outfit from head to toe, or is that right sock still wearable?  Should I just throw away the baby's onesie, or do I care enough to actually scrap off the vomit and wash it?  Secondly, I check for causalities.  Is the carpet underneath me ever going to smell normal again?  Should we move and just forfeit our deposit now?  And lastly, I call for help.

And the last part that is the strangest about a baby throwing up is your mandatory reaction as a parent.  In any other normal situation, when someone throws up on you, you would, like any normal person, either scream and run, gag and run or gag, scream and then run.  I remember one time in college my drunken roommate asked me to hold her hair as she threw up.  As she started to spew into the toilet, I not only let go of her hair, but somehow in the process I managed to push her head down directly into the bowl as I quickly backed away.  (Fortunately, she was so drunk I just told her she fell from the car on the way to the dorm.)  But, again - She didn't even throw up on me and I was trying to get away. But as a parent, these are not your options.  Instead, you just have to take it.  You have to let the vomit wash over you, AND THEN, not worry that this foul smell will seep into your pores, but that this little one is okay.  The other night, when I was covered in two hour ingested sweet potatoes, I wanted to wash myself in gas and fire, but I didn't.  I couldn't.  I'm a mom, and let's be honest, third degree burns is never fun to recover from.

2 comments:

Meredith L.F. LaBonte said...

Ahh yes - the hint of partially digested puree, that lingering aroma that you reason must be the recall of your sympathetic stomach... until your co-worker points out the orange stain on your back... ugh, that's been there all day! Here's to solids!

SkippyMom said...

Just catching up and your take on all things Motherhood is not only bringing back suppressed memories [our youngest is now 15] but making me laugh hysterically.

To this day I am unable to drink, purchase, look at - oh heck I can't even walk down the aisle it's sold in - APPLE JUICE.

You haven't created a memory until your child has projectile vomited warm, curdling apple juice into your face. While your mouth was open.

GAH.