Exhausted, I am.

At about 3am, I heard Jesse coming toward our room, making coughing/gagging/hurling-type noises. I lept out of bed and ushered him quickly to the bathroom. He leaned over the toilet and spit some foamy, slimy, saliva in the bowl. But that was it. It almost seemed to me like he had gagged himself on his finger or something. It put me on alert, though, and I worried that before long he would come in spitting up more than saliva. He went back to bed and I crawled back into mine as well.

We did this every hour until it was time to get up anyway.

He didn't want to eat breakfast right away this morning, saying his stomache hurt, but he seems to be doing fine now.

I wish I could say the same for myself. I am looking longingly at my warm, comfy bed.