Is there any feeling worse than knowing your child is sick? Is there anything more disheartening than seeing him with sunken eyes, and feeling his little arms holding onto you so tightly and breathing that warm wet breath into your neck while tears fall on your shoulder?

On Monday morning, I dropped Dexter off to his daycare around 9 AM, as usual. We’d had a lovely family fun filled weekend, and although he was a bit reluctant to go into his classroom, I didn’t see anything unusual in his behavior.

Two hours later, as Daniel and I cuddled together on the couch, my phone rang. My heart dropped into my stomach as I noticed the caller ID – “Dexter’s Daycare.” Immediately I knew SOMETHING was wrong, as they’d never called before, and any time they’ve ever needed a word, they have left me a note on the sign-in sheet.

I answered the call and it was Carrie, the owner. She said that Dexter “was throwing up,” and she sounded sort of upset. I assured her I’d be right over, and I told Mark to watch the baby while I got in the car and sped over. As I got up to the doors, I saw my little man walking toward me with Carrie. He gave a big smile and started to run, but then his face went pale and he slowed back down again, clearly not feeling well.

I assured Carrie that he’d been fine all weekend and that I’d never have sent him if I thought he was ill, and she assured me that he wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last to paint the nursery in splashes of vomit.

I brought the little guy home and immediately noticed that despite them having made use of the change of clothes we send with him every day, he STUNK. So I decided a bath was the best thing for him.

The bags under his eyes and the sallow skin he sported were so much worse when he was soaking wet. He suddenly seemed so very small and meek. Just the day before, Mark and I had been talking about how pudgy he has become, with a tiny little pot belly and a chubby little chin. But I couldn’t see it at all anymore… My baby was sick, and though it had been only a couple of hours, I felt he was wasting away.

After his bath, I went to put him in some pajamas, and I was astounded when he put up no fuss at wearing his footie PJs, which he usually doesn’t want to wear.

I gave him a glass of pink lemonade with a crazy straw, and I let him suck on his brother’s pacifier, and he slipped one of my flowery headbands on his head. He seemed quite well in himself, so I sat him on the couch and put on his favorite cartoons.

It wasn’t long at all before the lovely pink lemonade made a reappearance. The kid puked every last bit of it up, along with whatever he’d eaten that morning. He sprayed it all over himself and all over me. A change of clothes for both of us was in order, but it was no time at all before he threw up again. And again.

All day long, he was sick. Punctuated by covering his eyes and laying on the floor for short periods before he would raise his little head, look across at me pitifully and then be sick all over again. Mark started trying to teach him to throw up in the toilet, and it broke my heart each time, because you could see that Dex really wanted to please us by doing so, but a two year old isn’t quite equipped to make it to the bathroom when they need to vomit.

Toward the evening, and after a full day of him rejecting every drink I offered, I finally thought to give him some popsicles. He downed THREE of them in no time at all, while pedalling his bike out on the balcony. And he managed to keep them down! I was very pleased, and he started to look like his normal self again.

Mark suggested giving him some food, and I was adamant that the only things he could eat were what you’d find on the BRAT diet – namely, Bananas, Rice, Apple Sauce or Toast. And we had none of it.

So I headed out to the store to get some supplies. I figured I ought to pick up some Pedialyte, as well, just to ensure proper hydration. And I wanted to have a look at the pharmacy to see if there was anything a toddler could take for nausea.

When I returned home with bananas and bread, as well as some Baby Emetrol, I was excited to get him fed up. But no sooner had he followed me into the kitchen that he threw up all over the floor. As I stared at it, I started to wonder about what I was seeing… it looked to have bits of chicken in it. He hadn’t eaten chicken in the last few days, so what was going on?

And then Mark said that he’d fed him a chicken quesadilla.

!!!!

What?!

Apparently in the short time I’d been gone, Dex had shown an interest in Mark’s food and instead of heeding my BRAT guidelines, Mark figured the food would be fine. Clearly it wasn’t. Grr.

A banana was devoured, but it, too, came back up. The kid wouldn’t take any of the medicine I’d brought, either, nor did he really want the pedialyte. He clearly just had enough.

After he threw up in his bed as we tried to get him to sleep, we finally decided that Mark would sleep in the living room with him while I kept the baby in the bed with me.

Sadly, Dexter spent much of the night being sick everywhere, and Mark had to deal with it all.

The next day was much better, in that after his last bout of vomiting at 5AM, he finally managed to get some sleep. He spent the whole day in a corner of the living room, having made himself a little bed out of couch cushions and hiding his head under a frisbee.

I did try and get him in to the doctor, but I wound up taking him to the Urgent Care centre when we couldn’t get in. After waiting an hour in the waiting room, I got a call from Mark saying that our doctor had called in a prescription for anti-nausea suppositories and I should just leave. So I did. We went home so he could rest some more.

Occasionally, he’d come sit on my lap, holding me as tightly as he could and cuddling my bosom. I held him tightly right back, offering him small sips of pedialyte when he needed it, and after many many hours, he started to improve.

Sleep was pretty much the best medicine, and he had an awful lot of that.

The rest of the day passed pretty easily, and though I’d had a small worry when Daniel threw up green liquid all over me and the rocking chair, it turned out to be a one-off and not an acquired illness. Whew!

We did have slight concerns when Mark went in to change his diaper and found a giant mess of diarrhea, but it seems to have been the final clean out he needed to get his spirits and good health back.

Today he is back at daycare, and hopefully he will be okay. He seems much happier in himself, and I am pleased to have got through such an awful couple of days with a sickly toddler. Truly there is no greater sadness for a parent than knowing your baby is poorly.

But similarly, the elation you feel when they get better is almost unparalleled.