this boy... and lesson learned in the hospital.

He's been giving us a run for the money.

*disclaimer, I talk about "nursing", "pumping", "milk supply", and "infant diarrhea" in this post.  Some readers may be against such language and stories involving them, and I completely understand.  Reader beware.  hA.

It all started the Wednesday my mom was in town and we were on our way to the big Antique Fair.  He woke up around 6 a.m., per his usual, and I tried to nurse him (again, per usual) and he was ANTI.  Like majorly anti.  It was so weird.  Very unlike him, but thought, "Hmmm... maybe he's just not hungry."  We went on with the morning, got on our way and I fed him his normal breakfast of rice cereal and fruit.  He was happy.  Once we arrived at the fair, I decided, "I'm gonna try nursing him again before we get out to shop..."  Nope.  Not having it.  Anti again.  So weird, but he was happy, otherwise, so we decided that we'd try again later. 

In the hours and days that followed, he has continued to be majorly anti-nursing.  As I looked online, I discovered the term for this action is called a "Nursing Strike."  Apparently, it's fairly common.  Babies who have nursed great for their life all of the sudden decide to stop, cold turkey.  Some babies come back and want to nurse again in a day or two, others a week or two, and others stop entirely.  Sometimes it happens b/c of illness or other events.  Lovely. 

Just in case he decided that he wanted to come back to nursing, I thought I'd better start pumping to preserve my milk supply.  Pumping is no fun.  It stinks.  And takes forever.  And then you have to clean all the parts afterward.  But, for the betterment of my child, I decided to do it---just in case.

Did I mention that Cal is anti bottles, sippy cups and the like? (and in case you want to suggest your favorite sippy cup, let me tell you, I purchased EVERY brand/type at Walmart to try.  Yeah, he hasn't been fond of ANY of them.  Thank you, child.)  Anti formula (similac regular and then I just have been trying the Similac Go and Grow brand).  Anti most juices.  Most pedi-lyte flavors. Anti most soda.  Anti liquid in general... except for WATER and CHICKEN BROTH on occasion.

Nice, Cal. 

Did I mention he also got major diarrhea a day or two later? 

So, with this quandary at hand (him loosing a ton of fluids and not taking any in), the last week and a half has involved me giving him water and broth with a MEDICINE DROPPER.  Wow.  Talk. about. tedious.  

Did I mention we went to Dallas with Aaron in the midst of all this? Aaron had a CE course he was going to, so I thought, "Why not have us tag along too? We'll swim in the pool.  Drive around the city..." 

Big mistake.  Not cool to be couped up in a hotel room with a baby with a diarrhea baby (who, consequently, had mega diaper rashes) who you don't want crawling around on the "mystery stained carpet" and an "active" toddler who likes to push phone buttons and lean against the floor-to-ceiling-wall-of-windows.  Talk about giving her mother a heart attack.  If my memory serves me correctly, we were on the 8th floor.   

(don't mind Tillie's bangs.  I tried to trim them again.  I don't have the hair cutting talent.)

We did, however, get out on the town one evening.  I didn't have the energy to wrangle kids at a restaurant, so we got a box of pizza (delicious), picked up a cupcake at Sprinkles (cute but overrated, if you ask me), drove through some ritzy neighborhoods and admired the amazing homes, ate our pizza and played at a park for a while until the sun went down.   This was the highlight of the trip for sure. 

(you'd never know this kid was a mess the rest of the trip)

I was in touch with our Pediatrician through all of this, fortunately.  She told me to monitor his wet diapers and how many fluid ounces he was getting daily.  The diaper count was just around 4 (the minimum is 3) in a 24 hour period.  And he was only taking in 7 to 10 oz./day (minimum she wanted was 20 oz.). 

After a week's time, even though he was above the minimum, I wanted to take him in to get checked over.

By then we were home from the 3 day "excursion" to Dallas, the diarrhea had stopped, but he still wasn't taking in any more liquids.  She checked him out.  Found blisters in the back of his throat  ?!?!  whaaaat?  how?  who knows.  But couldn't give him medicine for it, b/c it's viral? or bacterial?  and had to run it's course.  She was also nervous about the liquid situation, so she had us take him to the hospital.

I knew I hit an all time low in my life when I finally found a parking spot approximately 5.6 thousand miles away from the hospital (had to wait 20 minutes just to find it).  By this point, Cal and Tillie were zonked in the back seat.  So, I decided that Tillie would get the chariot ride in the stroller, b/c she is heavier (only by 10 pounds, but still...).  I'd carry Cal in my arms b/c my front pack carrier wasn't in the car.  Also, I had a feeling it would be a long day, so I packed extra books, treats, and extra toys for both kids---meaning my diaper bag weighed 75 pounds (or there about).  You know when your bag is so heavy that the straps dig into the flesh on your shoulder?  Yes, this happened. 

So, after I struggled across the parking lot, finally got into the doors of the Children's hospital, and was handing the receptionist my orders from the doctor---guess what words came out of my mouth? 
wait for it.
wait for it.

No joke, I literally said this exact sentence:

"Y'alls parking blows."

Thank you, Texas.

Anyway, we got checked in, and did the paper work.  Tillie was darling and helpful.  Calvin was happy.  That is, until the 15 year old nurse stabbed him with a needle to take his blood and get an IV in.  Bless her heart, she was sweet, but it's not cool that she couldn't get it in after a few pokes on the one side.  In the end, she got it in on his OTHER hand, but honestly, we were all dying by the time that happened.  Tillie kept saying, "Oh, Cal.  It's okay.  It's okay. You gonna be a happy boy soon. Happy boy soon." 

 

 

 (poor baby.  get a load of that face.)

 (gotta love Tillie's flared nostrils.   She thought it was a great afternoon.)

After four books, two jars of bananas, an emergency potty run for Matilda, a spilled tupperware of crackers, 45 attempts for Tillie learning to open the garbage can with the foot lever,  and a 8 "cc's of yoo-who" (name that movie) pumped into Cal's body---we were told we could go home.

In the end, he checked out fine.  What?!  His electrolyte levels were normal.  His fluid levels were fine.  There wasn't some rare disease they found (although I was sure there would be).  I almost felt a little stupid walking out of the hospital after the whole ordeal.  You know what I mean?  It's almost like you want something to be "wrong" so it can prove there was a reason why you went through it all.  But, I quickly pushed that thought out of my head and said a silent prayer of gratitude that everything, in fact, was okay. 

I decided, in the end, that is better to be safe than sorry.  

The sunset was a little more beautiful that night as we trekked the 5.6 thousand miles back to our car.  The hamburger at Wendy's tasted a little more delicious than it normally did.  The traffic on our way back home didn't annoy me as much as it usually does. 

So, while Calvin still does best with a medicine dropper, one day this nine month old will learn how to use one of his 17 different sippy cups.  Until then, Tillie is enjoying them all.  And, one day, we'll venture back to Dallas.  It's only a few hours away, after all. 

Things are on the up and up and as my broddahs from another moddah say, "Iz all good."