Baptism of Vomit

Let me explain the title.

Stephen, after an evening of extreme fussiness and troubled sleep, became violently ill at around 11pm last night. Ever the optimist, I figured he was just being fussy. I picked him up out of his crib and rocked him slowly, trying to comfort him. My fatherly love was rewarded with a gush of partially-digested formula mixed with liberal amounts of a Biter Biscuit.

I brought him out into the living room, saying something to the effect of, "Honey, the baby is throwing up..." when the next big gush came. There was no sound from the boy, other than the rush of liquid that literally shot forth from his maw and splashed across my chest. Once it was out, he gurgled a cry, but by then it was too late.

I think I was lucky. This viscous soup was expelled with enough force that, had Stephen's elevation been a little higher, I would've gotten a mouthful of it.

We comforted him as best we could, and between the two of us he settled down for a while...until the next bout of vomiting began, about forty-five minutes later. The boy had no fever, and we couldn't really fathom what might've been wrong with him. We gave him little sips of water, and my wife watched TV with him for a good while before getting him back to sleep.

He woke up a short while later, puking again.

It wasn't the worst night ever, but it was somewhat frightening, and I felt sorry for the little guy. I don't enjoy throwing up (who does?), so I can only imagine what it was like for him. Before hurling, the boy would frown, his lips apart slightly in an expression of discomfort that I can only describe as pitiful.

In the end, he went back to bed. He managed to drink a bottle, and kept it down. Perhaps it was a flu-like bug; whatever it was, it was relatively short-lived. Thank the gods for that small favor.

He wound up going to his grandmother's today, as usual. Here he is at her house, dressed in his Varsity jumper and matching hat. With that body language, I think he looks like a little gangsta.

I can hear him on the baby monitor right now, sighing in his sleep. He went down (to sleep) fairly easily tonight. After last night's festivities, I can't say that I blame him for being tired. I'm tired, for Pete's sake...and I still have some writing to finish before bed time...