Sunday, March 13, 2011

Precious Moments

Cyd has been waking up in the middle of the night quite often lately and inevitably ends up in our bed.  Another sleepless night for everyone involved. Deep down I cherish these moments, knowing how fleeting they are. As I was cradling her in our bed this past Saturday night, I thought about how much I treasure this time with her. I love being so needed and with Cyd, being my last baby, I want to make this time last as long as possible. I held my hand on her heart to hear its regular beat, reassured that she was safe. There is nothing more beautiful than watching your children sleep. It is one of the few times when  you know, without a doubt, that they are safe. I was thinking these thoughts and feeling grateful last night when I heard a strange rumbling sound. Next thing I knew there was Cyd, sitting up and  vomiting all over the bed. Ah, precious moments. Fleeting. Beautiful. Whatever.

After we cleaned her up as best as was possible at one a.m. and changed the sheets, we went back to bed and I thought, yes, alright, fine, this is even worth all the vomit in the world.

She threw up again that night. And we were out of sheets so we went downstairs. We had no other choice.

I went to get my hair cut by the lovely B., and felt refreshed and renewed.
I came home to find Laura and Cyd sleeping on the couch.

A few minutes after my return, Cyd was vomiting again. This time, it was the yellow, putrid kind.

I won't go on and on about how much vomiting happened that day (five incidents - three of which were the projectile kind), but suffice it say that we have been doing laundry around the clock.

Because of her fever and weakness and beautiful dependence on moi, I spent the entire day holding her and kissing the top of her vomit-smelling head, and felt completely at peace. And when she looked up at me with her feverish eyes and whispered, "Mommy, my tummy hurts", my heart broke in at least two pieces and I felt like I would do anything to make it better so she could be back to her boisterous, precocious, house-destroying, semi-independent self, while another part of me wanted to keep her just as she was, warm and cuddly and needy, so I could hold her in my arms forever.  I could handle the smell. And frankly, there was a lot less clean up in this scenario. If you can imagine that.


No comments:

Post a Comment