Strange sentiment, no? But this is the thought that has been going through my mind today each of the nine times between 3 am and now that I have knelt beside Kyra as she yakked up her insides. Some nasty version of the cooties has invaded my child's system, loosened the contents of her digestive tract, and has sent everything rushing towards the nearest exit.
Today while in
my bathroom the Vomitorium, I can't help but think of the rib-crushing, violent morning sickness (that's a misnomer if I ever heard one) that I had while pregnant with her and Jaiden, my twins conceived on Clomid after 2.5 years of trying naturally with now luck. From weeks 6 through 16 I tossed my cookies anywhere from 6-10 times per day. Sometimes my chest and shoulders cramped and ached for days from the sheer force of vomiting. It was so bad that I'd often wake up from a dead sleep in the middle of the night and need to vomit so suddenly that I couldn't make it to the bathroom. Finally, we bought a big plastic bucket which we called simply, The Puke Bucket. I'd wake, grab the bucket, puke, swish and spit some mouthwash, then wake Frank, who would grab said bucket, rinse it out, and place it back on my side for the next round of buttcrack-of-dawn upchucking. As difficult as it was, each time I found myself on my knees before the Porcelain Goddess, or pulling over on the way to work to puke in a ditch, or (to my embarrassment) leaning over to puke in a trashcan in the middle of the mall, I thought of the two growing within and thought, I would puke for you. I would puke, and so much more.
Instead of going up to spend time with Mia today before tomorrow's transfer, Frank and I decided to stay home and care for the Girlchild Number One. We'll wake up tomorrow at O-dark-thirty in the morning to make the journey three hours north. My sister is here to care for el Cinco, but neither Frank or I felt comfortable cavorting the sandy South Carolina beaches and having a peaceful no-kids-allowed dinner at a fancy restaurant while Kyra was here recreating the green pea soup portions of The Exorcist. I'd rather be here, holding Kyra's hair back and teaching her the art of puking. Though I wish I could, I can't puke for her anymore. Now, I have to teach her what she taught me: "Don't stand, honey. That's why half of it went into the toilet and the other half just sprayed all over your legs. Kneel down like this. Put your arms here. Lean over, but not too far because it'll splashback, which is rather gross and will probably make you puke more. Take deep breaths. I'll hold your hair back. I'm right here. I would puke for you, if I could."
What did you bring this week for Show and Tell?