So I took Porter in this morning for his "final" checkup . . . and even made a play date with my sister-in-law for later in the day. Apparently, I was a little more optimistic than realistic. I ended up leaving the doctor's office and heading straight for the hospital (with one brief stop at the hotel for his teddy bear) where Porter was admitted for IV fluids and antibiotics and another round of blood cultures. Thank goodness for grandma who saved me by sweeping Ethan and Lincoln away for the day and sweet volunteers at the hospital who played with the boys until she arrived.
Porter is fine now. His blood cultures came back very close to normal - meaning that his inflammation/infection is nearly cleared. He hated the IV. I did, too. Because he had diarrhea, we couldn't even wander the halls, so I spent nearly 11 hours juggling a cranky, sleep-deprived, sick-of-being-messed-with 11-month-old baby. In all actuality, he was a pretty good sport. He had one nap - about 90 minutes - so I took a much needed snooze, too.
I got home to rescue grandma and put the kids in bed just after 8:30. Even though it's a hotel room, it sure feels more like home than a hospital room. The kids are finally asleep, and I'm not far behind.