Love in the Time of Stomach Flu

Last weekend our entire family was struck down by our very first stomach bug. Somehow, we made it through.

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

This past week we went through at least six bottles of Pedialyte, two bunches of bananas, and two loaves of Dave’s Good Seed bread. We have four bottles of Zofran for four of the five members of our family sitting on the counter— the fifth wasn’t prescribed Zofran to take home because she’s eight months old, and the ER doctor decided against it in the end. I’ve done at least ten loads of laundry with an added laundry-disinfecting rinse cycle. Our whole house smells like Lysol spray.

Prior to last weekend, there was a secret I was keeping from the world, and also from myself: none of our kids had ever caught a gnarly stomach bug. Heck, none of them had ever really puked before. Prior to last weekend, I could count on my hand the puking incidents each of them had faced: once when my son was just shy of a year, and it was more like a big spit-up. Once or twice again for each of the two older kids, when they’ve coughed so hard they’ve thrown up. That was it. When norovirus shut down their school earlier this year, we miraculously managed to escape it.

Last weekend, though — last weekend that lucky streak was officially broken. It started with the toddler, moved onto the baby, and from there took out the preschooler, me, and my husband in quick succession.

Here’s the thing. Before all this happened, I never understood how parents got through family stomach bugs. Myself, I’m a bit of an undiagnosed emetophobe. I truly, truly hate throwing up. I hate it for myself, and I definitely hate witnessing others puking. Or even expressing that they’re feeling nauseated. When my husband throws up, I flee. When there’s vomiting in movies, I have to leave the room. (Looking at you, Drop Dead Gorgeous.) One of the worst memories of my life was when I was trapped on a ferris wheel at the county fair with a family whose daughter had been on one too many rides and eaten one too many corn dogs.

But I learned something this weekend. When it’s your kids doing the puking, it’s not so bad. Well, not after the initial voluminous puke or two. And when that happens, you mostly just feel bad for them, because throwing up sucks, man.

After their stomachs are empty and it’s just the bile phase, it’s more of an inconvenience. Hear the telltale cough/cry, sit them up, shove the bowl in front of the face. Dump out what little liquid has come out, and repeat it all again in ten to thirty minutes. Eventually, it ends. And you’re left with the big house cleanup, and wondering if the rumble you’re feeling in your stomach is psychosomatic or if you’re going to be the next to fall.

What other big takeaways did I learn from the weekend? In no particular order:

• Quarantining is next to impossible when you’ve got a preschooler and a toddler who adore one another (in spite of their constant bickering).
• When sickness strikes the house, there is no limit to screen time allowed.
• There is also no limit to the number of times you can watch both Lego movies.
• No one wants to drink Pedialyte when they’re actually sick. Not children, and not adults.
• Pedialyte freeze pops, on the other hand, are close enough actual freeze pops that they can be used as bargaining chips when it comes time to take a bath and wash dried puke out of hair.
• Don’t throw a puke-covered duvet in the washer without first wiping the majority of the puke off, (LOOKING AT YOU, HUSBAND) because you’ll just have to wipe out washed and sanitized bits of puke when the cycle is finished, and feel that much more overwhelmed.
• Laundry folding goes by quickly when you have a fun series to idly watch. Acapulco and Foundation got me through all ten loads.
• It’s possible to survive on three hours of sleep. Possible, but definitely not preferable.
• Don’t go too hard on food once the puking stops, because that slice of pizza will come back up in the middle of the night, and you’ll be back at square one yet again.
• Zofran is a miracle drug.

And, of course, the one positive thing in all of this: naps are long and abundant, and the kids practically put themselves to bed at the end of the day. Do I want another stomach bug to hit our house? No. Definitely not. But I will say, those easy seven p.m. bedtimes were glorious while they lasted.