Baptism by bodily fluid
In the two years I have been a mother, I have been pretty smug in the fact my child has never puked. I can count on one hand the number of times Jack spit up during his entire life, and none of them were anything bigger than a dribble.
Sure, I've been peed on. I've been the unfortunate victim of projectile poop explosions. But vomit had never touched these parts.
And oh how the mighty have fallen.
Last night, Emmie was a little fussy around 8 p.m. No biggie, I just stuck a boob in her face and all was well. Then she was fussing again around 8:45, so I fed her again. Well apparently, her eyes were a little bigger than her month-old stomach. Because I heard an odd gurgle from her while she was eating and a nanosecond later, I look down to see her just puke her shit alllllllll over.
I am not exaggerating when I tell you she probably threw up a good six ounces of milk. All over herself. All over me. All over the boppy. All over the couch. It even got on some of the clean laundry I had just folded and was in a pile next to me.
Emmie just looked up at me like, "What the hell just happened?" and I sat there in horror.
To say I was stunned was an understatement. I have never witnessed such an event, much less been the recipient of one. Josh took Emmie and git her cleaned up and I just stripped off my sweatshirt and jeans and put them straight into the laundry, along with everything else.
As someone who is totally skeeved out by puke, I think I did pretty well with it. Granted, it was undigested breastmilk. So it wasn't chunks of food or tropical-punch colored liquor (not that I would know anything about that). Just some non-noxious white liquid.
An hour later, she was looking for more. I fed her, fighting the urge to cover myself with a tarp, without incident. All the breastfeeding books -- you know the ones that tell you pacifiers are the tools of the devil -- say if baby is fussy, you should put her to the breast. Well now I am petrified that she'll eat too much and puke all over me again. I offered her a pacifier for the first time after all this and she wouldn't entertain the idea and refused to put it in her mouth.
So I guess the boobs will have to suffice and I will make it clear bulimia is not a way to maintain her girlish figure.
Sure, I've been peed on. I've been the unfortunate victim of projectile poop explosions. But vomit had never touched these parts.
And oh how the mighty have fallen.
Last night, Emmie was a little fussy around 8 p.m. No biggie, I just stuck a boob in her face and all was well. Then she was fussing again around 8:45, so I fed her again. Well apparently, her eyes were a little bigger than her month-old stomach. Because I heard an odd gurgle from her while she was eating and a nanosecond later, I look down to see her just puke her shit alllllllll over.
I am not exaggerating when I tell you she probably threw up a good six ounces of milk. All over herself. All over me. All over the boppy. All over the couch. It even got on some of the clean laundry I had just folded and was in a pile next to me.
Emmie just looked up at me like, "What the hell just happened?" and I sat there in horror.
To say I was stunned was an understatement. I have never witnessed such an event, much less been the recipient of one. Josh took Emmie and git her cleaned up and I just stripped off my sweatshirt and jeans and put them straight into the laundry, along with everything else.
As someone who is totally skeeved out by puke, I think I did pretty well with it. Granted, it was undigested breastmilk. So it wasn't chunks of food or tropical-punch colored liquor (not that I would know anything about that). Just some non-noxious white liquid.
An hour later, she was looking for more. I fed her, fighting the urge to cover myself with a tarp, without incident. All the breastfeeding books -- you know the ones that tell you pacifiers are the tools of the devil -- say if baby is fussy, you should put her to the breast. Well now I am petrified that she'll eat too much and puke all over me again. I offered her a pacifier for the first time after all this and she wouldn't entertain the idea and refused to put it in her mouth.
So I guess the boobs will have to suffice and I will make it clear bulimia is not a way to maintain her girlish figure.
Labels: Breastfeeding, Emmie
posted by Amy at
9:36 PM
3 Comments:
Omigosh! You are a riot! Recently came across your blog from other blogs. I totally get your sense of humor and your subtle sarcasm. I spent almost an hour reading your past posts, as far back as bling, bling!
Regarding the vomit, I understand, I'm a NURSE and I don't even like vomit. The stench and the sounds are enough to make me start gagging. But like you said, breastmilk isn't so bad, and besides, it came from you right?
Well enjoy your baby, my kids are about the same age apart but older, my son Ethan just turned 4, and my daughter Jordyn is 19mo. once Emmie gets old enough to play, you will get a kick out of watching them play together. And yes, he'll still be bopping her in the head, only she'll be bopping him back!
Monica
Yeah, I am terrified of vomit and I had a reflux-y baby. Good times.
Hope it was a one-time thing!
Oh, dear!
Owen was a pukey baby, and I was always amazed how much that little stomach could hold! I hope it was a one-time thing, too!!
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