Wash your hands, please

NOTHING can ever prepare you for the ship-sinking feeling you get when your baby falls ill, suddenly. Blink. That's how quickly things can go from healthy to hospitalisation. 

Last week, our beautiful baby girl looked well but was bringing up her feeds. I was struggling to differentiate between her burping large and vomiting. My maternal and child health nurse said vomiting was normal provided this was no more than two projectile vomits per day. Lilia's nappies also revealed watery poos but from speaking to friends this was normal bottom behaviour for a five-week-old baby.

Two days passed and this continued. Our local GP examined Lilia and told us if she does one more forceful vomit, we should take her down to the emergency department to check for pyloric stenosis, a condition found in young babies where food from the stomach can't be emptied and causes forceful vomiting, which requires immediate surgery to be fixed. It was gut-wrenching awful to think this could be a likely possibility.

Things didn't improve. Later that evening, Lilia's vomiting became worse and she couldn't keep down her feeds. Then another large forceful vomit, closely followed by one more. 

At 8pm the three of us arrived at the hospital emergency department. Almost immediately we were taken through to the paediatrics wing of the emergency department where doctors and nurses fussed over our baby girl who was looking paler than usual and not very happy. The staff treated us very well and found us a cramped room known as P10. Twenty-two hours later, we were still there waiting for a bed on the children's ward upstairs.  

While we waited, poor baby Lilia had to have a painful injection in her bladder through her tummy for the nurse to get a clean urine sample. This happened in a treatment room and I will never forget the look of helplessness, confusion and fear on her face. 

'This will cause her pain,' the nurse said. 'Most parents leave the room.'  

Both B and I stayed. We would never leave our baby girl, not even for a blink. She needed us and we needed to be there for her, as we always will be — no matter what. As I stroked her face gently and injected cherry drops in her mouth slowly, as this would ease her pain a little, B reassured her everything would be okay. 

As the needle went in, baby Lilia screamed like she had never done before and it broke my heart. She also had a blood test. Afterwards, I held her in my arms and rocked her, gently and promised her I would never let go. She wept quietly, my sweet beautiful baby girl. 

Later, while we waited, baby Lilia was becoming more dehydrated. We were left with little choice. She had to have a tiny plastic tube inserted through her little button nose down to her stomach. It was heartbreaking to watch and makes me feel sad to think about what she has been through. The paediatrician said the procedure is something she could remember.

At home for the last two days, moments before she wakes baby Lilia tosses and turns forcefully and looks frightened, as though she is having a nightmare. If only I could take that away from her somehow — erase the experience from her young memory.     

But we are lucky that Lilia is well. After being diagnosed with gastro, which in an infant can be very serious, our baby girl is doing much better today. It was and continues to be a huge relief to know her illness wasn't anything that required an operation like we first worried it would. 

After three sleepless nights at the hospital where Lilia was closely monitored in a small isolated room (anyone coming in had to put on a special gown to ensure infection would not spread and we were not allowed onto the ward to prevent the viral infection from spreading). When we could, I slept on a chair that folds into a bed, B used the pillows from this chair while our baby girl slept in her pram. We didn't really sleep but we had each other. 

Night three in isolation, not knowing what would happen next and whether Lilia would get better, I was starting to feel really down and worried. Too tired to sleep or to talk, I couldn’t even remember when Lilia’s last attempted feed was when the doctors quizzed me. But as our baby girl slept and we watched over her, B and I slow-danced and in that brief moment, I knew things would get better, it was only a matter of time.   

Finally at noon the next day, the doctors decided it was okay for us to finally take our baby girl home. They warned us that she could still infect others and could also be easily infected by other people, particularly prior to her immunisations as she doesn’t have immunity. Baby Lilia is not allowed near other babies or children for at least the next 10 days. The paediatrician in charge, who was responsible for Lilia's care, said other than the temporary isolation, there isn't much else we can do to ensure things don't get worse. She told us to make sure we wash our hands thoroughly before picking-up our baby girl or even being near her, particularly after going to the bathroom and when coming in from the cold outside.

Friends and family coming to visit us once the isolation period is over will find to the right of the door on the hallway table a large bottle of sanitiser gel. To keep our beautiful baby girl smiling, healthy and from returning to the hospital: before coming in use this gel to wash your hands, please. 

If, like me, you've been around anyone who has been unwell in the last two weeks or have the sniffles or similar yourself, please come and visit us another time. Two days short of turning six-weeks-old, baby Lilia doesn't have immunity to your sniffles or what they may bring.