Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Just When I Thought It Was Safe: The Spit-Up Diaries

The first time Matthew threw up was when he was 4 days old. We had just gotten home from the hospital and my cousins had been there to help us settle. Matt and Sarah's fiance, Wayne, had gone to go pick up some dinner for all of us and I settled into the rocking chair to feed Matthew a bottle. I was so happy that for the first time since his little life began he ate all two ounces of the bottle he was given. My glee was short lived as every drop of the two ounces came up even as Sarah, Mary and myself were cheering the victory of a small boy and a full belly. It went everywhere and seemed to come out of every orifice on his face. I was so shocked I think I almost dropped him.

We cleaned him (and me) up and changed him, and I'll admit we were kind of excited to be able to put new clothes on him, our own little dress up baby, and life went on.

A few weeks later it happened again. He didn't do it too much. Typically it was because Matt and I weren't paying attention to how much he was taking in without burping him (and okay once because I was being nosey at Babies R Us and was listening to a conversation next to me instead of watching what I was doing.) But for the most part we were pretty lucky and dodged the reflux bullet.

Today I was driving home from Target and was thinking of those days and how we haven't had to deal with it in a long time and how nice that was. Damn my mind for the thought even entering my head.

When we got home I put him in the high chair and fed him his peach yogurt and then broke up some cheese crackers for him and went to unpack the bags. I hear a noise and turn around just in time to see a waterfall of peach yogurt mixed with whatever else sits in the stomach coming out of his mouth. He looked as suprised as I did at what was going on. I stood in front of him helpless for a few seconds watching it all unfold. To be fair what could I have done? Keeping him in the chair was catching all of the contents atleast. When he was done I cleaned up what I could and took him out and carried him by holding onto his left leg and right arm to get him upstairs. He thought it was hilarious being carried this way and laughed all the way up the stairs. Fun times.

He's fine, I don't know what happened. Just one of those things that happen with babies. Hmmm...I better quit while I'm ahead and not think about how long it's been since we've had an explosive poopie diaper.


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