Sick

Brent and I decided to stay up and watch a movie last night. Not my wisest decision, but sometimes things like that need to be done. Then we tossed and turned and tried to get to sleep. I hate when I stay up too late and then can't sleep because my mind is racing about how I'm too tired and I have too much to do.

Then, I heard my little boy cry from the next room over. What was he doing up in the middle of the night? He's been a good sleeper, so I'm not accustomed to the midnight stirrings anymore. I surely wasn't going to get to sleep anytime soon now!

Brent offered to get up and help the little guy while I continued to try to drift off. Thankfully, I agreed to this arrangement and proceeded to remain frustrated with myself for being unable to just drift off. Sleep remained elusive.

Moments later, Brent came in and told me he was going to need a little help. I smelled it before Brent told me that Bruce had thrown up. All over his entire bed - blankets, bumpers, everything. I quickly took Bruce and got him in the tub while Brent dismantled the bed.

I've never seen Bruce so sad and sedate. He just sat under the faucet and let the water course over his little body. He didn't have a fever, but he was shivering. I didn't want him to get dehydrated, so we tried a little pedialyte. He moaned and threw up more and looked at me with sad eyes. Sometimes mortality breaks a mother's heart.

When Brent was done cleaning and disinfecting Bruce's room, we got the little boy out and into new pajamas. He clung to me as I rocked him back to sleep. Thankfully he slept through the night, and he's managed to handle a little bit of applesauce and water. I just hope we have our happy boy back soon!