I HATE Reflux

There are days when I am completely blown over by how hard motherhood is. Days when I use nap/rest time to just cry at how overwhelmed I feel. In the midst of those days (today being one) I am still my children's biggest fan--but so at a loss as to how to hang on. I love my kids to the moon, so I can't stand it when I can't give them what they need. For Isaac--some peace and comfort. For Jonah--more quality Mama time that isn't interrupted by a screaming Isaac.

This hasn't been an angry day/week (but you can bet your buns I have had those), but instead a sad one. Isaac is really struggling right now, and as a result we are all struggling. Forget Mama, in our house the saying goes, "If Isaac ain't happy, ain't nobody happy."

It's just been never ending the last few weeks. His reflux is totally out of control. He refuses to eat and hasn't gained a stitch in a month. He just grumps and screams all day because he is miserable. I seem to be the only one who can get him to eat anything, and lately that is not much--even with all my cajoling tricks.

I'll spare you all the horrid details--it's not pretty. At first I was able to maintain my sense of humor. What's a little puke after all? The puke doesn't really bother me, and he actually doesn't do that often anymore. It's the screaming all day and refusing to eat that has brought me to my knees.

Many have offered to take Isaac for a while and I really want to accept that offer. But, I know that it wouldn't be at all relaxing for me. I would be distracted by wondering how much he was screaming and as a result how many ounces he lost and how long it would take to gain it back. He's eating every 1-2 hours right now, and the schedule he was on is now shot to hell. I wouldn't even know what to tell anyone who tried to watch him--"Um, well he WILL scream. Aannnddd...it could be for any reason at all--good luck figuring it out! And, he may puke on you." I don't think so.

Poor sweet boy. Poor sweet both my boys. Jonah has been such an angel through this, but he still needs his Mama. He's been very patient and I am heartbroken that after all of this--after the NICU, Isaac's early no sleeping months, moving--that Jonah STILL has to wait way to much and way too long for time with his Mom.

I know this will pass. I've been on the phone today seeing if we can get some things switched around to make Isaac more comfortable. Every day isn't so overwhelming, but I am reaching the end of my ability to cope.

(Sigh) I know that this is what it means to be a parent. It is these types of experiences that weld us so tightly to our children. These types of experiences, that when we look back we can say, "Yes, I have been through fire and hell for you. But I would do it again. And again. And again. Because you are just too darned cute and wonderful I can't seem to help myself. But boy watch out, because there's some serious payback coming your way when you get some muscles and I need some yard work done."

The Smell of Puke in the Morning

So--obviously we haven't posted in a while. Mostly because we are crazy exhausted and overwhelmed, but also because I don't really know where to begin. I feel like I should write down all my feelings about Isaac coming home, but since I don't have the emotional energy whenever I have a minute, I just put off writing anything. (Just know that we are beside ourselves happy and content with having our boy home. It's been crazy, but worth every bit.) So--I'll get to that aspect another day and instead deal with our cold hard reality--in a word: Puke.

Puke? Yes, puke. Or if you'd rather, vomit, upchuck, spit-up (HA!) wretching, cookie tossing--whatever you like. Essentially--our lives right now are centered around the fact that Isaac has some awful Reflux. He's on medication and we basically have to keep him upright 24/7 but he still pukes on us regularly. Just so you know it's not baby spit up type throwing up but exorcist shoot across the room type of stuff.

Frankly--it's awesome. It's gross obviously, but we're mostly just amused by it. It's kind of entertaining to watch--not so much so on the cleaning up part. There was one morning this week where the sun was shining, the birds were chirping and I was thinking, "What a lovely morning--I can almost smell the springtime." And then I got a nice whiff of the soaking bucket full of puke clothes.

I wouldn't be so glib about it if it was more serious--it may become so in the future, but right now it's more of an annoyance than anything. If he's puking so much he stops gaining weight, then we'll have a problem.