Piercing cries jolted me from my work. I furrowed my brow and rose from my bed. Toddlers usually slept through the night, but they had been unusually listless and cranky recently. They'd eaten ice cream and chicken soup, so I'd assumed it was just teething.
Now, this was not normal. I had been organizing orders for my flower shop, assessing upcoming orders, inventory, and needs. I padded into the nursery, where I found not one, but three crying children: the boys and Sadie. They were all curled up on their sides, clutching their tummies, and I could smell diarrhea in the air.
I flicked on the light and prepped my station with extra wipes and fresh diapers. As I picked up Sadie, she cried even harder. I tried to shush her as I placed her on the changing table, but she kept rolling onto her side, making it a bit tricky.
"Mom, what's going on?" Lily's sleepy voice asked from the doorway.
My voice was soft, but laced with worry. "I just don't know," I replied. "They have tummy troubles and diarrhea. I'm not sure if it's an allergic reaction to something they ate."
She nodded and moved to pick up Darien. "He feels warm," she said. "He has a fever."
"Oh no, no fever, please," I thought.
Suddenly, something hot splashed all over me as Sadie vomited.
"Fuck, okay, change of plans," I announced. "This is a stomach bug, and I don't want it to linger. We're relocating. Let's take the yellow bedroom in the left wing. We can have the babies sleep in their naptime cots in there, and I'll have guys clean this room with spells and whatnot; no need to get germs all over the place."
Lily nodded. I heard footsteps as Number Three walked in to assess the situation. He noted the vomiting and the bitter stench of diarrhea.
"We have a stomach bug," I told him. "I'm relocating them to the yellow bedroom on the left side. You get to clean and kill all the germs here. I know how well they can linger."
Number Three looked worried and said, "Poor babies. I'll see if my teeth can do anything besides make velvet. Sleep is good, but it might hinder their recovery. Since these are mini-versions of you, more or less, I can't guarantee anything."
I nodded. Sadie's diaper was soaked with watery poo, and her bum looked irritated. She was still rolling.
"They need some pain relief; they're miserable," I said.
Number Three replied, "I'll go check what we have. I can ask if Number Four has time to whip up something for them. It smells kind of nasty," he commented before turning around and walking away.
A slight shimmer surrounded him, indicating he'd put an energy shield around himself for protection. I wasn't afforded that luxury, so I might be in for some tummy trouble myself. I mentally listed what I could do for them.
They would need hydration, and my instincts told me to go for the bump, meaning intra-abdominal nutrition liquid. This is what males in our species made in their abdomen – essentially, men's milk. It could be centrifuged and processed, and the resulting liquid might be gentle enough for the babies to sip. I had some of my milk, plenty of it, but I wasn't sure if it was appropriate here. I also had cheaper bedding, just in case.
I asked Number Three, "My love, can you cast a transportation spell so I can send the trash straight to the incinerator, ensuring no one has to handle it and there's no chance of germs floating around?"
He replied, "Consider it done. I'm making beds for the babies here and will cast the spell soon so we can move them. I can give them subcutaneous fluids in their backs. I'm not sure if they'll let a cannula stay in place. I know you could do it too, but I use numbing energy, so they won't feel a thing."
I said telepathically to him, "Thank you. Let's hope this passes soon. Also, could you or Wulfe make me a pendant I can wear when I get out of here? An energy shield, so I don't transport this anywhere else. It's no use if this germ lingers and reinfects them as they're getting better. I know kids' bugs tend to be like that, and I'd like to stop that merry-go-round."
He promised to get me the pendant soon. I continued listing more and more things in my mind, trying to be logical, as if it would drown out the nagging pressure that this could get really nasty for all of us.
Hoping I was wrong, that I was overreacting and being a helicopter parent, I knew better. These were my children. Knowing myself, it was perhaps too much to assume they wouldn't also get sick. I resolved to take things one day at a time. I reserved buckets, towels, and other baby necessities. Once I had the room ready, I stocked the cupboard with stacks of cheap bedding, rolls of heavy-duty trash bags, and plenty of hand soap, along with packages of vinyl gloves.
I decided against face masks; my lungs are sensitive, and according to the Salvatores, there were always tiny fibers coming loose. For me, a full-on gas mask would be necessary, which would be too scary for the babies. Besides, I would be bathed in their germs, more or less. I also set aside clothes for myself, along with thicker laundry sacks, and I had a stronger washing powder reserved for these. The Salvatores might have to do the laundry; they could activate an energy shield for protection.
"Shh, Mommy is here," I whispered softly to Dash, who had just vomited all over himself and soiled his diaper.
It was three in the morning, and my eyes felt gritty, but I changed him. I put his soiled clothes into a sack and wiped him, again teleporting a bag of trash into the incinerator. I wrapped him up and held him in my arms for a while. If it helped him even a little, the medications the Salvatores had given him hadn't done much good; he was so achy, cranky, and sick.
I wasn't sure if anything had time to absorb when they puked all over themselves, even after a sip of formula. His tiny body was so damn hot, and he fussed in my arms, kicking his legs and curling up as his tummy was sore. I shushed and rocked him gently, not wanting to worsen his nausea.
It had been like this for five days already, and my babies were so exhausted and sick, but I knew that sometimes these diseases could last for weeks or more, and I would just have to hang in there. Pain hit my belly too, but I pushed it down by combining my powers, not thinking about it; now was not the time for me to be sick.
I had five little sick toddlers to care for. Number five and three had been here too, but they had to go to the shop and make food. Several Salvatores had gone to work, and this was a big house to upkeep. Despite us being sick, there were many mouths to feed, so they were busy as well.
In the darkened bedroom, I sat, usually holding one of my toddlers in my arms. I cleaned them, changed diapers, soothed them, and tried to ease their pain, encouraging them to drink or eat something. The others, who were changed and resting, received daily subcutaneous fluids on their backs from Salvatore to prevent severe dehydration, but they were still sick. Listless, in pain, and I was worried.
I also had symptoms, but I suppressed them with sheer willpower. This burned a lot more calories, which might leave me skinny later, but feeling a feverish child in your arms, crying tiredly as pain racked their bodies, my aches and shivers were nothing. I was just trying to make it a little bit easier for them, changing the bedding, wiping them, being there for them.
I had a painkiller that would absorb through the mucous membranes, but it was hard to get them to keep it in their mouths because it burned. The dose was nearly a tablespoon, and dabbing it in their mouths didn't work well. I had clamped my worry down, from hive, partially, so my symptoms and my anxieties wouldn't bleed over to everyone. This enabled others to focus on everyday life without feeling my worry pressing in on them like a thick, heavy, inevitable thundercloud.
Darien was finally asleep, after throwing up a bit of blood, which seemed as if he had literally torn his throat open. Their stools were now watery, nothing resembling normal, but reddish-brown liquid. This burned their little bottoms, causing irritation on their bums and thighs. I tried to change diapers as often as possible, but it just oozed out.
I went to the kitchen twice a day to eat what I could, but I didn't have much of an appetite. My stomach was hard as a rock, and I just couldn't eat much. I drank as much as I could tolerate, but giving myself an injection? Nope. I still had strong reservations about medical things, and it was hardly ideal, but it was what it was. I wasn't in the place or mood to try to suck it up.
All that mattered was my five little sick babies, and a constant, burning worry filled my mind. I just felt in my chest that this wasn't just a normal stomach flu, but something more serious, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was just running on fumes and worry, and maybe this was what most human mothers had to go through: just try to help, withstand, and care, despite how hard it was for the babies.
I avoided using their favorite clothes, unsure how many washes they could withstand. Wulfe's spell revealed germs in the laundry, forcing the laundry staff to meticulously check each garment for a telltale yellowish hue, indicating living germs and necessitating rewashing.
Number One had ordered hospital-grade, strong detergents and was adamant about keeping anyone germ-free near his trio. According to him, they had the flu, while we had the runs, a draw, reflecting how the pack operated – no infecting others. I knew I wouldn't enter this room again anytime soon after this ordeal; the atmosphere, filled with my toddlers' suffering, felt oppressive.
"How are you doing? We are so far fine," Mariella asked via the hive.
Some parts of the hive were open, but I still withheld information.
My reply was a weary, worried sigh, "Still the same, vomiting, watery stools, nothing stays down, fever, pains. I wish I could take this away from them. They're constantly fussing and crying, not understanding what's happening. Nothing stays in; they puke every drop right back up. Painkillers I make burn their mouths, making them cry, so that's a no-go. I don't want to poke them with needles; I'm supposed to be their safety, not someone who sticks needles in them. So many Salvatores are working and taking longer shifts, so there's little help for me."
Mariella responded, "It must be awful, but, according to Damon, a stomach flu might take weeks to clear. Remember Apollo and the others? The witches said it might take two or more weeks, so just try to hold on. I know it's a stupid thing to say, but it wasn't fun being sick and trying to care for three stuffy, cranky kids."
I rolled my eyes in frustration. Like I was some fancy pansy unable to tolerate this. But hey, as Damon said, then it must be true, I thought sarcastically, it seems Mr. Dickweed had won Mariella over, and good riddance. Let them be a happy family.
Mariella had no idea; she had at least five to seven people helping her. I had one or two, and myself, caring for five children, each much sicker than her trio, but no, she was once again perfect and knew it all.
Sabrina's wake-up call abruptly shattered my sarcastic, angry, and tired train of thought.
"Mama," she whimpered, looked at me, and then vomited.
The vomit was bloody, a sign that her throat was raw from throwing up. I gave her ice chips to soothe her sore throat, and she curled up. A wet rumbling sound erupted from her, followed by a moan. I stroked her, waiting for the eruption to end, and started gathering supplies.
She was burning up. I took the syringe, drew a dose of febrifuge, hoping it would stay down long enough to help, but it came right back up. I turned on more light, prepped a trash bag, grabbed a fresh diaper, soothing cream, and cleaning wipes. After washing my hands and donning gloves (which wouldn't help much, but this was a messy job), I found her slumped in bed, crying weakly.
I picked her up, carried her to the changing station, and removed her soiled clothes, tossing them into the laundry bag. I opened her diaper, expecting brown, watery stool, but saw bright red blood. Her diaper was heavy with bloody stool, and my heart lurched. Taking a few deep breaths, I tried to reassure myself; it was probably just a superficial fissure, made worse by the pressure.
I folded the diaper, my pulse still pounding, and cleaned her. The bleeding continued for minutes, but finally clotted. I put fresh clothes on her, as she was shivering, and gave her more febrifuge, which she threw up five minutes later before passing out from exhaustion.
This felt like more than just a stomach flu, but it was night, I hadn't slept, and things always seem more serious at night. I decided to wait until morning to assess the situation and get a second opinion, seeing if I needed to do more. Worry gnawed at my heart.
Me, the alpha female, chimera, black jaguar in human form, and vampire, was now just one more worried mom of five sick toddlers. I decided not to consult the internet just yet; maybe I'd take a nap and see what the morning brought.