It was 5 am and I was up for the third time with Sam, as usual. I fed him and he soon filled his pants with a thunderous gurgle, as usual. Not wanting to wake either of us too much, I proceeded to change his diaper in the dark. I paused, however, when I felt wetness on the back of his onesie. When I turned the lamp on, sure enough, he had filled his pants all the way up the back and out, soaking through his onesie and pjs. I had nearly finished undressing and wiping him down when I felt a warm trickle on the back of my hand. He was peeing all over the changing table. I wiped him down again and finally got him all cozy in a new pair of pjs. I sat down to nurse him a bit more. As he finished, he let out a large belch. I put him up on my shoulder to see if he had anymore burps, and he immediately drenched my shoulder with spit-up. Determined not to make another outfit change, I toweled us both off the best I could. I cradled my little bodily-fluids-factory in my arms and closed my eyes, begging God for just one more hour of sleep before an energetic 4-year-old would come bounding into our bed.
Just then I looked down at Sam in the dim light. He was gazing back at me with the sweetest toothless grin a mother has ever seen. My heart skipped. Now I know that many would say that babies this age don't smile on purpose; that it was just gas. But any weary mom would agree, this smile was just for me. I am convinced he was saying, "Ah, thanks, Mom. I feel much better."
2 comments:
Aww, I love stories like that. Laughing one minute, almost crying the next. You're a great mom, Em.
This made me smile, thanks. Love this story
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