From Maine and Back

So we made it back from Maine in one piece... well, almost. After 3 blissful days of fun in the sun, lobsters and cocktails galore, and more croquet than any one person should ever play - Jon Jon got sick for the first time. It started with a runny nose on Sunday that I attributed to the possible start of teething. But after a sleepless night, Jon Jon did another first - he projectile vomited all over me. Then began 2 hours of straight, sad, whimper type crying - the kind that would break any parents heart - until he finally fell asleep.

Under normal circumstances the hypochondriac mother in me would have freaked out - simply because this was Jon Jon's first illness. But being on a remote island where the closest hospital is a helicopter ride away, my mind got away with me. What if he passes out? What if he continues to vomit? What if he has some crazy stomach virus? What if he caught West Nile from the massive amounts of Maine mosquitoes?? Let me tell you, I never felt more helpless in my life. I have heard other mothers say this cliche abut having a sick child - but cliches do start for a reason. To have your child look at you with those sad questioning eyes, as if to say "What is happening mommy? Why do I feel so horrible? Can't you make it stop?" It's enough to make yourself feel sick. So I did what any panicking mother would do - I called my mother-in-law.

Ok, well maybe this wouldn't be every mother's first call, but it was mine. My MIL used be a pediatric nurse - so to say she has some experience with babies, is an understatement. She also has a way of not getting over excited about anything - like I always do. When I called and explained what was going on she simply said, "Aww, baby's got his first cold." Right... a cold. That's all. But I still did not like the fact that we were so very far from home. So we packed ourselves up and caught the next ferry off the island, cutting our vacation a day short.

On the ferry, Jon Jon gave me a few weak smiles, but once he had another bottle his spirits started to perk up. He was still sniffly, and had a runny nose - but I think the shock of it had worn off for him, and like a trooper he flashed me the peace sign to tell me it would all be ok. So crisis averted - we made it home in one piece. But it has not inspired me to want to take any vacations any time soon. Funny how sometimes we work so hard to plan a get-away, especially when you have a child and just want a small escape from the everyday grind. But then there are those moments when you find yourself wishing you could tap your heels, and Dorothy style - be home in a heartbeat. This was one of those times. We had a great time while there, but when you have a sick child, there certainly is No Place Like Home.