Panic

Abby woke up retching this morning.  Gagging and trying desperately to throw up past her NISSEN (reflux repair). 

Panic.  That's all I feel is cold, numb, sweaty panic.  I recognize that this is not a normal response to a pukey kid, but she's not a normal-response type of child. 

She's kind-of pale.  She looks thin.  I vented her g-tube.  Nothing.

More panic.  She's always nauseated when her tummy's full or we're feeding her.  This is first thing in the morning and she's empty. 

No fever--that's good. 

Run for the Zofran and give it slowly.  More gagging. 

What's wrong?  Why is she so sick.  Just one weekend out of the hospital is what I was looking forward to.  Hannah's home for a visit and I just couldn't wait for our first weekend all together again. 

It doesn't matter what's wrong with Abby.  If I can't feed her, I can't keep her home.  Even if it's just a little tummy bug.   I'm trying so hard to transition her off of IV fluids; I'm giving her a liter every other night.  Last night was her off night.  I hoped to stop completely this week. 

It feels like my whole world just stops spinning for a second and then starts again in a different direction. 

I've only known she was sick for an hour.  So maybe this is just a crazy fluke and she'll be fine.  Even as I type the words my momma-instincts tighten my chest.  I know this isn't okay for her.  I'm praying I'm wrong and at the same time preparing for another trip to the hospital. 

Last week I almost defiantly--maybe faithfully---put my hospital duffel bag at the very top of the closet where I could barely reach it.  I didn't want it sitting out in my room as it has been waiting to be filled.  I am praying...no, begging God for a break.  No more hospitals for a while.