I admit my attitude was not the best... ok, so it was a lot worse than that. I walked in the door from my first day back to work at my part time job with the school after being off for the summer, and my excited munchkins made a beeline for me. I reached down to embrace one of them who was headed for my legs with arms outstretched. Before we could hug each other, she projectile vomited all over me. Lets just say even my shoes were filled... I mean filled! Ugh! (Now, I know this is totally gross, but don't you people read this blog because it is "real?" :)
My first thoughts, well, after "disgusting!!" were something like "Seriously, God? I am eight months pregnant in 100 degree weather and the first day back from work looks like this?!" I am sure none of you ever think that way... So the rest of that evening was hard. We repeated versions of that welcome home scene quite a few times. Between dodging puke, cleaning her and me, trying to keep her twin out of the nastiness, and frantically trying to sterilize the house, it was one of those nights to remember... or maybe to forget!
Several hours later she and I are the only ones up. The house is dark and quite and I sit rocking and holding her close. The only sounds are our breathing and an occasional whimper from my little one. I run my fingers through her soft curls and brush them against her sweet cheeks. And then I feel a change. It seems almost like a warmth blows through my chest, and my heart wakes up. The specialness of the moments grab me. And suddenly I am so so thankful to be there rocking my sick baby. In my arms. Her blue eyes focused on mine. Searching for reassurance. Her gentle breathing comforting me in a place deep down.
My heart swells with thankfulness. For my sweet, little one. Still here with me. For these moments that waylay you in the midst of all the yucky ones. For the time I had rocking the other sweet, little one. Not still here with me. I am suddenly, overwhelmingly thankful for the Gift of these moments.
And to think, I almost missed it...
My first thoughts, well, after "disgusting!!" were something like "Seriously, God? I am eight months pregnant in 100 degree weather and the first day back from work looks like this?!" I am sure none of you ever think that way... So the rest of that evening was hard. We repeated versions of that welcome home scene quite a few times. Between dodging puke, cleaning her and me, trying to keep her twin out of the nastiness, and frantically trying to sterilize the house, it was one of those nights to remember... or maybe to forget!
Several hours later she and I are the only ones up. The house is dark and quite and I sit rocking and holding her close. The only sounds are our breathing and an occasional whimper from my little one. I run my fingers through her soft curls and brush them against her sweet cheeks. And then I feel a change. It seems almost like a warmth blows through my chest, and my heart wakes up. The specialness of the moments grab me. And suddenly I am so so thankful to be there rocking my sick baby. In my arms. Her blue eyes focused on mine. Searching for reassurance. Her gentle breathing comforting me in a place deep down.
My heart swells with thankfulness. For my sweet, little one. Still here with me. For these moments that waylay you in the midst of all the yucky ones. For the time I had rocking the other sweet, little one. Not still here with me. I am suddenly, overwhelmingly thankful for the Gift of these moments.
And to think, I almost missed it...
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