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Home › Articles › Fiction/Opinion/Essays/Humor › Battle of the Bug

Battle of the Bug

A Parent's Story of Triumph Over the Stomach Flu

By Angela Harris

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rst. Evan, at this point sobbing, was dripping with vomit, which had also managed to land on the pillows, his favorite blanket and our couch.

"Do something!" my husband sputtered, a panicked look on his face. Do something? Feigning confidence, I tore the soiled blanket and pillow off the couch and tossed it in a pile on the floor. I scooped up my traumatized toddler and lugged him into the bathroom for an impromptu wash down, a change of clothes and some comforting. After a few minutes we returned to the living room, calmer and cleaner, and I settled him on the couch with a fresh pillow and blanket. I felt a wave of relief wash over me as he dozed off, apparently feeling better. I had handled things pretty well.

"It was probably something he ate," my husband offered. I nodded. That's what it was – something he ate. He'd be fine now. Wrong again. The spewing of fluids, the mounds of dirty laundry, the wailing that resembled an air raid siren – it continued for another full day and night.

My husband and I took turns, laundering, consoling and supervising Evan carefully as he nibbled saltine crackers and sipped grape Pedialyte. To keep him calm and content as possible we played, rewound and played again his favorite Thomas the Tank Engine videos approximately 752 times each. In fact, I now know the name of every single character, the words to every single story and complete topography of the Island of Sodor, "home" of the lovable talking engines. I may even qualify to be an engineer.

By the time Evan's flu began to dissipate, my husband and I trudged through the house like weary soldiers, pale and exhausted, our eyes haunted by what we'd seen. Exhausted though we were, our senses were heightened, and we were prepared to respond to the smallest sign of viral storms brewing like a couple of Navy SEALS.

Wondering what happened to the 4-month-old during all of this? Thank Heaven for grandparents. He stayed with them until Evan's vomiting had stopped. We sent him as soon as we realized we were dealing with the full-blown flu, so he wouldn't catch it. Unfortunately, we were not fast enough. He also caught the virus.

At least three times a day for three days, he had diarrhea. Lots of it. It was impossible to comprehend that such a horrible odor could emit from such an angelic infant. Surprisingly, instead of crying, our little butterball would chortle with glee every time I laid him down to change his absolutely toxic diaper. This was truly a blessing, as he cried enough already on a daily basis.

If all of this wasn't enough for hubby and me, as soon as the kids began to feel better, we began to feel bad. During a mad dash to the bathroom, I realized we had caught the kids' stomach flu.

What followed was what I believe to be as close to the fiery depths of the netherworld that you can get on earth. A phone call to the grandparents revealed that they could be no help, as they were sick with the same "bug" that had infested our home.

My husband and I spent two of the most miserable days and nights of our life sick as dogs, somehow managing to care for the children and pretend that we felt better than we actually did.

The stomach flu has since left our household, and we are all feeling better. I, for one, am feeling like a better parent. Nursing two little ones and myself through such a miserable, messy illness taught me a lot about my adeptness as a mother. It left me stronger and more secure in my abilities. Now I really can handle anything – at least until the teenage years.

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