+ Champ

My wife and I experienced our first significant bout of anxiety as parents as our little boy, our first child, our 14-month old WML had to be rushed to the emergency room for severe dehydration, brought on by a nasty invasion of the rotavirus. He was so happy and playful last Thursday night right before his bedtime when he suddenly, and without warning, vomited on K and me with a stunning projectile force as to be considered worthy of the effects seen in the Exorcist.

Friday and Saturday were a bit more of the same spunkiness WML usually shows but his appetite was diminished and most of what he drank usually came up again within the half hour. Finally on Saturday, when he wouldn't eat anything all day and he could not even keep water down, a call to the weekend pediatrician on-call warranted a GET THEE TO THE ER NOW!

So, without panic so as not to upset our Little Man, we bundled him up and drove to the ER, registered, told the doc our tale and W was plugged in to an IV pronto. He remained hooked up to the IV through the night and all day Sunday, until he was finally able to keep his fluids inside his tummy as well as some banana, rice, applesauce and toast (BRAT).

We were at the hospital with him for roughly 20 hours, but it sure felt like three grueling days to us. I can only imagine how long it felt to him, with his limited scope of time knowledge and reference. Though his primary thumb was free, he was frustrated because the IV was attached to the arm that aids his elaborate thumb-sucking routine and it was made unavailable to him because the straight board splint to prevent him from crimping the IV line made it impossible to bring near his mouth. Not to mention it is a needle stuck in his tiny, precious little arm.

It was painful to see our boy in such agony. He was a Champ throughout the whole ordeal, and you knew he was wondering what the hell was going on with him and around him. What is this tube coming out of my arm and why can't I bend it? Why is mommy and daddy in my room all the time? Why can't I get down and crawl around? They've always let me before! Who are these strange ladies who keep poking and prodding me? Why am I sooooo thirsty all the time? How come my crib has big brown plastic dome over it?

He was a Champ through it all, indeed, and I give thanks to God for helping Weston get through this alright and for helping K and me with making all the right decisions and giving us patience.

I've learned a lot from you, Champ.