It’s so horrible when your babies are ill.

At 3am last night, an otherwise cheerful Dexter threw up his Spaghetti Bolognese. The act of being sick must have terrified him as he went white as a sheet and started screaming. The hysteria brought on the sniffles and he was soon vomiting phlegm every ten minutes. It was impossible to get fluids in him to rehydrate him so Craig and I made the decision at 6am this morning to call 111.

What a nightmare! I completely appreciate the preliminary scripted questions (name, location, telephone no) but what ensued afterwards was what can only be described as a shambles. Whilst Dexter’s eyes were rolling into the back of his head, he choked on his phlegm, and went floppy, at 5 minutes in, I still hadn’t been asked what the emergency was. Before the bloke on the phone could take down any details he had to ask me whether I’d called 111 before, whether the patient was bleeding deep red blood, and a number of other irrelevant questions. I’m pretty sure if Dex had any of those symptoms I would have bypassed 111 and taken him straight to A&E.

By the end of the call Dex had deteriorated further and from the sounds Dexter was making, the 111 man insisted on sending an ambulance. We refused as we knew we could get their quicker on our own and quickly sped off to A&E. The journey there was spent trying to keep an increasingly catatonic Dexter awake and responsive. I can’t remember ever being that scared.

The triage nurse muttered something about resuscitation and I fell to pieces. I couldn’t believe I was cradling the same boy who had wolfed down his dinner and posed for review photos the night before. He just looked so ill.

Luckily he avoided this and a doctor prescribed a Fluid Challenge. This involved Dexie being administered 5mls of Dioralyte every 5 minutes. He struggled to keep anything down and continued to throw up solid blocks of sticky phlegm, but the colour slowly rose back into his cheeks. Two hours later he was cooing and tossing a play racing car around in his bed. The doctors assessment was that the act of vomiting had caused him to have a mini seizure (very common and not as scary as it sounds), his heart rate slowed and he was terrified which resulted in the sickness. He certainly seemed miles better.

When the hospital discharged him, he was exhausted. Writing this post at 6pm, Dexter has barely moved. I have him in bed beside me so I can observe any changes in his colour and breathing. He’s quiet, his eyes are open, but he’s laid in the same position the entire time. Earlier on, he managed a full 200mls of Aptamil then proceeded to throw the whole lot up just seconds afterwards. I’ve administered several 5mls of Dioralyte via a pipette and hand fed crushed up Biscotti - but even this has failed to stay down.

Tomorrow, he turns 1-year-old. What a terrible way to spend your 1st birthday. I feel so impossibly sorry for him. Not easy this parenting lark is it?