We have had a really long couple of days and I'm still too tired to get much into it, but I'll give you all I've got. If the point of this blog is to keep friends and family updated on our lives, then I have to include the good with the bad, right? I will start with the end of the story: Miles is fine now and as happy and playful as ever.
On Saturday he woke up and right away we knew something was off. He wasn't his usual squirmy, bonkers self and all he wanted to do was cuddle. We tried to give him his bottle, but he just kept reaching for me and he'd just lie down and close his eyes.
I know, really nice one of me.
I just thought that maybe he didn't sleep well so we put him down for an early nap. When he woke up, we saw that he'd thrown up. He'd actually hit his head a few days before (but was fine afterwards) so we were told to take him to the emergency room. They said that when sick babies are brought in, they pretty much cover all of their bases so one of the things they did was get chest x-rays. This was awful. It was like a mini torture chamber. We had to hold his arms up in the air while being locked into this crazy contraption and he was just screaming his head off. So anyway, they found a small inflammation in his lungs, diagnosed him with a respiratory infection, prescribed antibiotics and sent us home.
He then threw up his next bottle. And then his next. And then he started projectile vomiting and I pretty much lost my mind while masquerading as a calm and collected human. We rushed him back to the hospital and within ten minutes of being there, he threw up four more times. He was super dehydrated so they had to hook him up to an iv to get fluids in him. I had to put Michael in charge because I couldn't stay in the room. I don't think I would have done so well when they had to stick him a second time in a different spot on his arm. Ugh.
So Miles and I (I sent Michael home when we saw the single pull-out chair knowing that we didn't both need to be tired the next day) spent the night in the pediatric ER. Me on the little pull-out, him in the crib that looked like a mini prison. He was hooked up all night so he woke up every time he moved because it was so uncomfortable for him. After a very long night, he woke up seeming much better. He drank some formula and was able to keep it down. He (we) also took a much needed nap on my lap and we were sooooo happy to see the change in him when he woke up. His cheeks were rosy and he was talking and smiling.
(That diaper on his arm was to help keep his hands off the iv)
They had a really great playroom that was right next door to our room and he loved it in there. We spent most of the day playing in there and giving him increasing amounts of food as the day went on. The iv came out around noon and after about five more hours of getting more and more food in him (and him keeping it down), we were able to take him home.
So. Phew. In the end everything was fine and we did the right thing, but man was I ever terrified. I feel like I only started breathing again yesterday afternoon after seeing him eat and play and laugh and act like himself again. It's crazy how much you don't care about being covered in vomit when your little one is sick.
Here he is playing the day after being released from the hospital.
Good as new!