Well I really screwed myself with that last post. It’s like when I laugh at someone who has hiccups (I’ve learned NOT to do this…) and then get them immediately after. It all started with the line “When milk is spit up all over my shoulder, I don’t immediately need to change my shirt…”

I had been worrying that sometimes she spit up a little too much, and maybe it was puke. Maybe she was sick … but all of the information I could dig up online said “you’ll know vomit when you see it.” Not really very helpful, but oh so true! Of course, it took being vomited all over to learn that it was true. All over my shirt, pants clinging to my thighs wet with regurgitated milk, spattered on the rocking chair, and dousing the yoga mat spread out on the floor for play time.

Oh yes, we welcomed our very first virus into her wee body. I’ve tried to explain to her that since we’re breastfeeding she should let me get sick first. Then she would be able to breeze through with nary a cough, riding high on the work of my immune system. But no, she was a go-getter, tackling that bug on her own and then joyfully sharing it with me so we could share sleepless, snotty nights.

And when I say joyfully, I do actually mean it. She was a trooper throughout the week-long illness and following week of patchy coughs and leaking noses. She actually laughed after the first time she spewed all over me and the room. I’m sure she did feel a lot better after getting that out, but I didn’t expect laughter from a sick baby.