This is NOT a picture of my own baby.
I lift my eight-month-old baby out of his car seat and begin to walk towards the pharmacy. While still in the parking lot, he does it again. Smiling sweetly, he vomits up his lunch – all over his little blue jacket and my beige raincoat. Weeping silently, I abandon my destination and return to the car. I now keep paper towels in the car to clean up the mess. We drive straight home.
Vomiting episodes have been occurring practically every day for about a month. Jaime is my second child so I’m not an inexperienced new mum. I’ve been desperately trying to figure out what makes him vomit but have yet to find a pattern.
In 1973 new mothers didn’t suffer today’s extreme pressure to breastfeed for a year. Because Jaime was a colicky baby, I ran out of patience and weaned him at about three months. I fed him formula until the pediatrician suggested introducing cow’s milk and mushy cereal.
The current vomiting can happen just before a nap, during a nap, right after a nap, in the middle of the night (when he then starts crying), sitting in his highchair, or playing with toys in the playpen.
At seven months I’d begun adding pureed vegetables to his diet, so whenever he vomits, I stop the recent addition – assuming he is allergic to it. We gradually work our way back to just Pablum and milk. (Writing this almost 50 years later, I can’t recall whether he tolerated other items like fruit or Arrowroot biscuits.)
It Gets Worse
I repeatedly take Jaime to our pediatrician. In fact, Dr. K. eventually phones my husband Stan to discuss MY mental health. My anxiety level is off the charts. What am I doing wrong? Am I just inept?
One day I have a type of nervous breakdown. His three-year-old brother Freddie is excited about all of us going to the Town of Mount Royal library for Storytime. Allowing time to walk there, I go into Jaime’s room to get him up after his morning nap. After I enter his room, Jaime pulls himself up to stand in his
crib, smiles at me, and proceeds to vomit all over the blue shag area rug beside the crib. As I get down on my hands and knees to clean up the mess, I sob uncontrollably. I cancel the library excursion.
Now that summer has arrived, we head to our cottage in Vermont every weekend, with Stan driving the two-hour trip.
During our two-week stay we buy groceries in Newport, Vermont, so our milk is produced by American cows. When he vomits at least once a day, I take Jamie to an American doctor who suggests a possible cause.
Apparently, farmers on either side of the Canada/US border feed their cattle differently. The latter eat more corn (to which Jaime may be allergic) so I now drive eight miles to Beebe, Quebec and go through Customs to buy him Canadian milk. The vomiting continues regardless.
When my mother visits, she takes me aside to remark how terribly thin Jaime is – almost scrawny. My mother-in-law comments that he resembles a child in a war-torn country. Especially when compared to Freddie who has always been on the sturdy side. Jaime’s birthweight had actually been three ounces more than Freddie’s.
The Doctor Arranges a Test
When Jaime turns eleven months, we are back in TMR full time. During our next trip to the doctor, Dr. K. raises an unsettling scenario.
“Pat,” he says. “We’ve been trying to stop Jaime’s vomiting for months now. Without success. One possible cause of unexplained vomiting is a brain tumour. I’m going to arrange an appointment for an x-ray of his brain so we can rule it out. I know it’s an upsetting thing to even contemplate. What’s troubling is the circumference of his head. It’s growing quickly and is larger than most babies his age.”
Ah…yes indeed. More tears as I walk home, pushing Jaime in the stroller with Freddie holding on to the side as usual.
Which brings us to our Wednesday morning appointment at the Montreal Children’s Hospital. Freddie is having a whale of a time being cared for by my mother-in-law, so Stan and I can focus completely on Jaime. After changing his diaper, I zip him into a lightweight coverall that’s warm enough for a sunny October day.
As we drive from our house in Town of Mount Royal to the downtown hospital, I watch ordinary people doing ordinary things: walking little ones to school, strolling with a dog, waiting for a bus, walking to the office, or going shopping.
Do they have any idea how lucky they are? I think. Here we are about to find out if our precious baby has a brain tumour and they have no idea. Dr. K. never said what will happen if there is a mass. Just as well. Too horrible to think about.
Stan lets us out at the front door of the hospital and goes off to park the car. He soon joins us in the waiting room, where I produce new playthings to keep Jaime relaxed and happy. He’s an unbelievably sweet, placid child – never crying or fussing even when he vomits.
A nurse asks us to follow her into the x-ray room – this being 1974, no MRI or PET scans have yet been invented. She takes Jaime out of my arms, lies him down on a device like an inclined operating table, and straps him in place with his head turned to one side. He fusses a little at being restrained.
We watch as an enormous ceiling-mounted device is aimed towards his baby head, and I have to walk away. I’m bawling as I think, what if they overdo the radiation and fry his tender little brain by mistake! I don’t want him to see or hear me in distress.
Within a matter of minutes, Stan calls me back. The nurse undoes the strap and passes him back to me, gurgling happily. A wave of overwhelming relief breaks over me. So, he’s okay for now.
Stan gets the car and drives us home again. The next day, Dr. K. phones with the results: everything looks normal; something else must be causing the vomiting.
Freddie walked for the first time at 11½ months; Jaime walks at 14 months. (It’s possible his big brother inadvertently knocks him over on occasion.) As soon as he hits this milestone, all vomiting stops. Dr. K. says it must have been something to do with his lower esophageal sphincter – the valve between his esophagus and stomach. Now that he is confidently walking upright, it works properly.
Thank God.