I love my little Timmy with all my heart. He is definitely a baby of extremes. He is either wearing a huge gummy smile and giggling or he is red faced and screaming in a colic induced rage. Whereas Robby was an intent and studious baby, Timmy seems to be more on the goofy and jovial side. I am enjoying watching his personality develop, and continue to be amazed by how alike and different he is becoming from his big brother.
Robby never suffered from reflux, a blessing which I only now appreciate. Timmy continues to projectile vomit without notice, coating everything with sour milk. I venture to say that, other than when I was recovering from my surgeries, a day has not passed where I have not been thoroughly doused with vomit since he was born. While I know that it is more unpleasant for him than for us, I have to say that it is an absolutely disgusting issue.
I have gotten into the habit of changing my clothes after I strap him into his car seat in an effort to spare my shirts. Sometimes the plan works. Unfortunately, sometimes he manages to spout like a dolphin, covering me anyway. It was a little embarrassing when Elliot changed my my leg only to discover that the spectra sock was covered with rancid formula chunks. No wonder I couldn't escape the smell!
Although I don't enjoy being coated in smelly, chunky regurgitated baby formula, Scott borders on repulsed. He is not handling a reflux baby gracefully, and instinctively announces each episode with the same disgust as the first. Whereas I can simply wipe off the vomit without much pause, Scott is not nearly as easy going when it comes to wearing formula. He has managed to spin each episode into a little production.
Sitting in the living room, it is easy to determine when Timmy has experienced a reflux episode with his Daddy. The calm of the house is immediately interrupted by Scooter shrieking, "Oh no! Oh no! Oh my God, it is all over me. Peg, he spit up all over me. Oh no, he isn't finished. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Peg-GY, he covered me. You have to take him. Hurry, it's warm." Apparently I'm the most adept at wiping up vomit?
From our bodies, clothes and hair to the floor, casseroles and cat, nothing has been spared from the little regurgitator. The reflux medication seems to have little impact, although I haven't stopped giving it to him so perhaps it is sparing us from a far more prolific fate. I'm promised that he will outgrow this stage, but adjusting the timeline for his prematurity has us covered in goop for at least another three months. It is a good thing that he is cute and smiles a lot because the constant vomiting is certainly not his most appealing attribute.