One of the strangest things about this childful life is how very happy I find myself to get a break—any break—from the action. Maybe you have also had the experience of feeling not so well, stomach-wise, and, while leaning over the toilet, having your main thought be not Eeeww—it’s coming up my nose but Thank God I am actually, certifiably sick and not just slightly nauseated. Now I can spend the day in bed.
It’s sick, I tell you, this life. But I got my day of rest. A stayed home; I stayed in bed (eerrr, and in the bathroom). He brought me Iris to nurse and Ingrid for quiet visits but mostly I spent the day under the covers staring at the snow falling outside. I don’t seem to be too much worse for the wear, here in the middle of the night, except that Iris, having had less milk than usual during the day, what with my inability to keep down even any liquids for several hours, seems to want to nurse every hour, and, having pretty much slept all day, I’m having a little trouble falling back asleep each time. Also, I am swilling Gatorade and keep needing refills, so I am up.
The milk thing is a tiny bit worrying. At Iris’s day care, they want me to bring 18 ounces of milk for her every day. Doesn’t that seem like … a lot? I’ve done some minor googling on the topic and I guess I’ve got to try, but a) I’m only pumping, at most, 10 ounces in a work day, in two pumping sessions, and it’s hard to imagine cramming another pumping session into the day, so I’m trying to also pump every evening, except when I’m, um, perched on the edge of dehydration already. And b) Really? 18 ounces in 8 hours? When she nurses, like, at least three other times in a 24-hour period as well? No wonder I’m thirsty.
Also, I feel I should document my gratitude to our friend the gastrointestinal virus. It has been responsible, this winter, for not only Ingrid’s weaning, but also my first (probably fleeting, but still) brush with my pre-pregnancy weight since October 2006. Let the clothes-buying begin!*
It’s kind of nice to be the first in the family to get a stomach bug. Now I will be all rested and able to deal
if when A and the girls get it.
*Actually I already, this weekend, bought two new sweaters, Compact be damned. I think they were the first new non-maternity clothes I’ve bought in a good year and a half. It was a mental health thing, mostly, sick and wrong though that is. Are you aware that shirts are now long again? Long meaning they cover up my whole stomach? How was I not clued in about this important fashion development?