I was gone from home for four nights when I went to Chicago last week. Four. That’s a long time in baby world. Long long. Lovely friend A dropped me off around 11:30 pm Monday evening and all I wanted to do was climb over the rail and crawl into J’s crib and snuggle him all over. I smoothed his back while he slept soundly and I took in the baby smell in his nursery. SO happy to be home.
Husband and I stayed up for a bit, giving each other weekend re-caps, and then I heard a soft cry, and for the first time in almost a year, I was thrilled that Jacob was awake in the middle of the night. I made a beeline for his room, so excited to scoop him into my arms. As I got closer to his crib, I realized this was no ordinary wake-up we were dealing with. I flipped on the light to discover that my sweet boy was covered, head-to-toe, in vomit. The look on his face could have shatter the hardest of hearts … he was so sleepy and upset from his admittedly rude awakening, but when he saw me, his eyes perked and a smile slowly spread across his face. Despite the layer of smelly disgusting that covered him and his bed, I picked him up and held him close. He instantly laid his head down on my chest and I felt his whole body relax. I held him and rocked him for a while before gently cleaning up my half-asleep boy. I snuggled him in and gave him part of a bottle to help soothe his upset tummy, and he fell back to sleep. I laid him back into his re-made crib and smoothed his back once more.
I went back to our room and peeled off my pjs, which were no longer in sleeping condition to say the least. I could’ve been covered in worse and I wouldn’t have cared. The poor little sickie just needed his Mama. And did it ever feel good.