A new rule

Reilly has been sick on and off for the past three months. Mostly on. Three months ago she started preschool, which is well known to be the breeding ground for all things bacterial.

Our family has been through this before, has weathered the initial period where Reilly adjusts to her new daycare environment. This time, though, the initial period has seemed to stretch on longer than normal.

Being seasoned parents, we haven’t taken Reilly to the doctor much. We know that most of what she contracts simply requires a dose of rest coupled with a few shots of TLC. However, last week, when she contracted pink eye, we knew we had to take her in to see the pediatrician.

Shawn took Reilly, and it was a quick and simple visit. Later that day, I came home from work and was doing my usual afternoon potty duty. Reilly pee-peed in the potty and got up to wipe when I noticed that there were a few crimson drops diffusing in her urine. I knew right away that it was blood.

Back to the pediatrician we went, and after the drama of having Reilly give a urine sample, my fear was confirmed: Reilly had a UTI. The doctor prescribed an antibiotic and then told us he’d be calling us the next day. He was concerned about the amount of bacteria in her urine and needed to run additional tests to see if there was any damage to her bladder or kidneys. He said we might need an ultrasound.

(Here I am at this moment typing this all rather matter-of-factly, but let me just admit right now that I was really concerned and even a tad bit freaking out.)

So they call us the next day and tell us that Reilly also has e-coli in her urine.

(More freaking out by me.)

Over the last week, the antibiotic has done its job, and Reilly has returned to her happy, active self. Shawn and I permitted ourselves to relax and give a sigh of relief that this whole thing was over.

Then today, Shawn called me at work to say that Mrs. A had asked that she pick Reilly up from preschool. Reilly had just thrown up. Twice.

Shawn and I babied Reilly all afternoon, playing gently, bathing gently, eating gently. No matter, she barfed two more times, all over Shawn. So here I am, typing up a blog while Shawn reads a book to our mellow and bellyaching baby. Next, I’ll do the dishes from dinner tonight because honestly—there should be a rule that if you get barfed on, you don’t have to do the dishes, right?