I was faced with a terribly difficult decision around midnight, last night. Should I hold my precious, shaking, sobbing little boy close and stroke his head and tell him it would all be alright? Or should I clean up the puke first? I opted for standing there, holding him as close as I could tolerate, both of us dripping over the tile floor, while I said, "Oh no! Oh, NO! Umm... oh no!" Smooth. Praise God Scott was there. He snapped awake, and came to our rescue. Slowly getting a hold of my senses, we both knelt with our little son on the floor, trying a little frantically to get his clothes off. I couldn't help but cry a little with Micah, he was so pathetic. Tears streaked his face, some of the stuff had come out of his nose, even his hair was covered with the mess. It was so sad. Scott cleaned up the floors while I gave him a quick bath. The entire time, he was shivering and wailing. My poor little love.
Finally, after everything was cleaned up and he appeared to be feeling much better, we put him back to sleep. Unfortunately, he kept waking up. Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep last night.
This afternoon, we took him to the clinic on base to confirm our suspicion: he has hand, foot, and mouth disease. Or rather, virus. I don't know why they call it "disease." He has ulcers in his mouth, red spots all over his mouth, hands, and feet, and a few that are looking like blisters. There's not much we can do but try to make him as comfy as we can, and give him Infant Tylenol.
As I'm writing this, it is 40 minutes past bedtime, and we've had to go to him multiple times already to try to calm him down and get him to go to sleep. I am so tired. Afraid we have another rough night ahead tonight.
*sigh*
Ah, the joys of motherhood.
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