So we have made it to 9 months and dare I ask myself if the dreaded Reflux has gone? My signature sick splodged leggings haven’t made an appearance recently. I haven’t had the pleasure of a cleavage cascade for a while and Emilie’s party piece of projectile vomming has become very few and far between.
Over the last week I have stopped putting Gaviscon in her bottles and have actually said the words out loud I think she has grown out of her reflux – I am waiting for the jinx and the spew fairy to re appear.
Today we did have a reappearance of a carrot encrusted baby blast. But this cannot be blamed on reflux. This was a classic case of Daddy Disaster! It went something like this…
Baby now eats anything. Baby likes finger food.
Baby gets lots of Easter eggs.
Mummy gives baby small slither of white chocolate.
Baby likes it.
Daddy gives baby a chunk of Mars Bar.
Mummy says I don’t think baby can eat Mars Bar.
Daddy says We’ll soon see.
Baby eats Mars chunk. Coughs, swallows, vomits.
Baby is covered in chocolately, caramel coated regurgitated cottage pie.
Mummy rolls her eyes.
Baby claps her hands!
Daddy reluctantly cleans up the mess.
I think she will always be a sicky baby. After Christmas we were plagued for weeks with a cough and sick situation. The cough seemed to linger for weeks and every day brought up more and more coughing and sicking and then of course more washing!
Throw in a few weeks of teething and add to that a virus and temperature off the scale and there is a whole lot more of sick. Despite my continual battles with sick, it does appear that the dreaded reflux has been getting better. Yes she is still sick on a weekly basis but actually it has been for various reasons.
We just survived two weeks on holiday. Despite worrying for approximately 6 months, the holiday went without a hitch. The 9 hour flight seemed to literally fly by and we amazingly didn’t need to use the four changes of clothes that I packed for all three of us. I was convinced that we wouldn’t make it through a flight without any sick… but we did (well until the flight home anyway!)
She seemed to adapt to Dominican time pretty well… except for the 3.30am wake up on the first night… I dazed in and out of sleep as she partied the night away; she literally bounced in delight along to Doc McStuffins in Spanish and the ironic song “I feel better… so much better!” which then remained in my head for the next four hours! I can honestly say that night was certainly not our first night in paradise… the combination of lack of sleep, jet lag and one too many arrival cocktails made that a VERY long night. I even made the classic mum fail and misjudged the nappy swap resulting in little miss Emilie pissing all over my 5 star super king size bed… right in my spot… typical!
Weaning was very much baby led on holiday as she feasted on everything from melon to chicken goujons. She even had her very own sweeper Julio C who delighted in sweeping up her discarded foods… (how I wish I had him at home) A $5 tip and he was our own personal cleaner.
Having attended a Water babies taster class, I was quite excited about getting Emilie into the water and demonstrating our Ready, Emilie, Splash techniques and of the course The Dunk. I had dunked her at the class and was keen to show Daddy.
At first Emilie was a little niggly in the water but she soon came to love it. Once she was happily splashing around I went in for the dunk. I remembered the cues that I had to give… Ready… Emilie… Splash. Down she went. I pulled her down and pulled her back up. Out she came looking a little dazed and then spluttered and took an intake of breath. Then in true Emilie style up it came. In the middle of the 5 star Lagoon swimming pool up came a full jar of Cow & Gate Spag Bol and down my bikini top it went. The swimming pool instantly became orange and my cozzy was covered. The splash and bounce cover up seemed to work as we splashed the floating chunks towards the filter… phew crisis averted.
So apart from the Dunk & Spew incident we were home and dry for the rest of the holiday… there was quite a lot of explosive poo… but that’s another story. We’d not had any sick apart from one little vurp typically on the wedding days so that her lovely dress stuck of sick… but in two weeks that was it. So by the time it was time to fly home we were pretty blaze. In true Mum style I still packed several baby gros, vests and of course leggings for me!
As we were waiting for the flight our little baba’s temperature rocketed off the scale. I could feel her heating up like we were turning up the thermostat. This was not helped by a flight in 30 degree heat with no air conditioning and an hours delay on board! We had an entourage of fellow passenger fanning her and passing us water and baby wipes to try to cool her down. We were counting down the hours til she could have the next dose of paracetamol.
We managed to find a spare seat for me to move to and Daddy took the first shift as I had endured the hour delay with her strapped to me. I was quite happily watching a film on row 5 non the wiser to the antics that were going on way back on row 15. Until I was interrupted by a passenger who said Come quick, your boyfriend needs you… the baby has been sick. I returned to find Dan and Emilie both bright orange. Dan was holding her like a stick of dynamite and looked rather distressed. On closer inspection I realised that his distress was the fact that he was wearing his best white Fred Perry T-shirt… oops. And I didn’t pack him a change of clothes… fail. Luckily he had a hoody so both were stripped down.
With one hour to go her temperature rocketed again and after a further three vomits and changes of clothes we made it back safely to Manchester. Maybe it is just when she is in a British Time zone that the Spewzilla takes over?
Anyway… we are back and until Mars Bar Gate we hadn’t had any sick and I am quietly confident that our old friend Reflux may have moved on.
But just to keep us on our toes, she now has another cough… so… watch this space!
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