BBC One Sunday evening

We are in the midst of an ongoing saga in this house. Ok, we are in the midst of many, but this isn’t a love saga (unfortunately) or a tale of poor girl doing good (yet) so it’s unlikely that the BBC will be around to force corsets and hooped skirts on us, even if it is turning into an epic.

No, our sage is one of vomit. Yes, I am fighting a rising tide of it and everybody is losing.

Isobel as a baby (listen to me, it’s as if she’s a teenage already, but you know what I mean,) she didn’t really sick up much, not much poseting. But on the two occasions she was sick, it was of exorcist proportions soaking all in sight and me right down to my underwear. It’s just as well her head couldn’t spin.

This was put down to an air bubble.

Then Isobel started nursery and caught a cold, the vomiting started in earnest; at least once most days, normally the morning feed requiring a change of ALL my bed linen, Isobel’s pjs and mine. Sometimes it would be twice or even three times a day and could be up to six loads of washing a day.

I took her to the doctors, they said it was probably the nastiness from her cold trickling down her throat making her gag and as long as she was gaining weight it was ok. Well, as I would make a new bottle after the ‘lost’ feed, she was doing ok.

Two weeks ago Isobel was weighed again, and she had lost weight.

So with this information I marched into the doctors. They proffered gaviscon with every feed, but I refused as she isn’t sick every day or with every meal so it seemed an awful lot of medication and a little hit and miss if you ask me. I took the option of a paediatrician appointment – an appointment we are still waiting for.

Meanwhile, last week Isobel had a tummy bug, both ends, and I was literally washed away with the volume. It’s not pleasant for a pretty girl to be ill so much, she has been poorly, days without rolling poorly, and she is so light and her dimples are no where near so deep. It’s been quite hard.

Why am I telling you this? Because tomorrow Isobel has her eight month check, and I’m dreading finding out how much weight she has lost.

Throughout all this she has been an angel baby, but the other angel in our house has been the washing machine (which, btw, Isobel has just developed a real dislike of).