God bless the broken road that led me straight to zofran
First of all, I want to thank each and every one of you who prayed and thought about us on our drive home. So many of you reached out to me all day long, and I felt so loved and like I wasn't alone. I could truly feel the prayers. Earlier in the week, I spent half a day playing phone tag with the pediatrician's office who was rude and very unhelpful and gave me advice like "make sure the car isn't too hot." Solid advice, but clearly they've never traveled with a violently sick toddler. Telling me to put the carseat in the middle seat (where it's been for 18 months) is like telling a pregnant woman with HG to eat some crackers and ginger. It will only give her more to throw up, and you'll be dropkicked in the face.
Anyway, after my last post, I did indeed go back to the coffee shop and drown my pre-roadtrip anxiety in an apple cream cheese muffin and a pumpkin spice latte (don't judge me)(it put Starbucks to shame). I spent the rest of the day biting my nails and trying to give myself a pep talk by repeating "I can do hard things" over and over like a psycho.
Another pediatrician, who will probably be receiving chocolate and flowers from me, prescribed the lowest of the lowest dose of Zofran for Gracie. I always feel twitchy giving her medicine, but desperate times, you know? It was also weird to give her the medicine I took while pregnant with her, but it also gave me confidence that we would survive, because I swear to you that medicine saved my life.
I'm pleased to announce it saved me again, because THERE WAS NO BARF. ZERO PUKAGE. Every time I heard a faint cough, water sloshing in the sippy cup, or smelled something rank from the farms we drove past, I had an immediate panic attack that she threw up. But she never did! She slept from central Illinois all the way to Indianapolis. She was fussy for much of the drive when she was awake, but it didn't bother me even slightly, because anything compared to the drive there felt like Christmas morning. I just felt so overjoyed that the medicine worked, we were on our way home, and I wasn't reliving the worst day ever.
About an hour and a half from home, I had to pull off to quash a meltdown and grab all the toys and books from the backseat and put them back up front so I could pass them back whenever she whined. I happened to pull off at the exit for a GIANT candle store. Seriously, gigantic. There's a Goliath-sized candle out front that has to be at least 20 feet tall. Next to the store, there's a large, round cage full of peacocks and a pumpkin patch next to the parking lot. It was the strangest, most delightful place I've ever been. Since I was feeling a little loopy from driving all day, I decided to go inside. I walked around for roughly ten minutes and never once found the end of the building. It went on forever. People were racing around, sticking their faces in candles the size of my thigh and filling up carts with Christmas garland and more candles. There were Christmas trees, a restaurant, a bakery, and a woman screaming in the bathroom because she dropped her phone in the toilet. I know what you're thinking, but it wasn't me. The experience gave me just enough stamina to finish the mind-numbing drive down I-70, where I cried tears of joy when I realized I was 10 minutes from home.
I came home to a clean house, open windows, and a pizza from my favorite place down the street. I was on cloud 9. I've been unpacking and decorating for fall and so glad the drive is over that I don't even care that my kitchen flooded when James gave Gracie a bath. And again last night when I bathed her and forgot about the previous bath. As long as she's not throwing up, I AM GOOD. LIFE IS GOOD. WE'RE ALL GOOD.
Zofran for President.