Welcome to Parenthood?

There were a couple of “firsts” in our household this past weekend. Our daughter’s first barf-through-the-night-session, and Mommy and Daddy’s first stay up all night changing pajamas, bed sheets and giving baths marathon.

Gwyneth started to whine a little bit around 1:00 am on Thursday night. I was COMPLETELY out of it and thought it was around 6:00 am, so when the Hubby got up to check on her, I groggily mumbled for him not to bring her back in our room, which he will do on occasion when she can’t sleep. I thought she was just wanting to get up early, which she will do from time to time and if left alone she goes right back down.

Well, when the Hubby brought her back in the room and went straight for our bathroom and turned on the bath water, I assumed she had peed through her jammies. I stumbled to her bedroom to change the bedding only to discover her rug doused in a field of green bean medley. I suddenly became very awake and I felt a bolt of shock surge through my body. Instead of being overtly disgusted, I felt over-the-top guilt. Guilt for thinking if my Hubby hadn’t gotten up to check on her, then she would have puked all over herself. Instead, she spewed as Hubby was rocking her back and forth, but at least she wasn’t alone and sitting in her own filth. It was the hubby that was covered in her filth, which, sorry to say Love, is just better.

Without skipping a beat I took the carpet into the kitchen, scraped off the big hunks while gagging and dry heaving, all-the-while trying to remind myself to breathe through my mouth. I then washed the carpet with hot, soapy water and carpet cleaner. It was during this scrubbing time that I remembered the numerous times my own mother kneeling beside my bed scrubbing the vomit out of my carpet. I remember feeling really badly that she was up cleaning my vomit, but also feeling too weak to do anything myself. So, thanks again, Mom, for taking great care of me when I couldn’t make it to the bathroom on my own. Which, was every time. Sorry!

Meanwhile, Hubby got her washed up, re-jammied, and was then fishing around in our baby medicine basket looking for “Baby Pepto” in which I had to inform him does not exist. Silly man.

As we sat on the couch as a family wondering what to do next, Gwyn started to yell for the doggies and play with her toys. This is when we decided she could probably go back to bed. I took her into her room, turned on the noise machine, flipped off the light, and began to sing “You Are My Sunshine” when I felt the warm, wet goodness drip down my neck and into my shirt. I ran to the bathroom where she finished her business in the sink, meanwhile getting it in her hair, again. So, the Hubby cleaned up the room this time while I gave the bath.

It was during these few minutes that the overwhelming love came flooding into my veins and I no longer cared how tired I was, how badly I smelt, or how much we still needed to clean. For in our tub sat a ghost-white, pale lipped, shivering little baby who was slumped over staring at a piece of green bean floating in the water. Just a helpless, tiny person who needed her Mommy and Daddy to get through this hard time. I then washed up my poor little babe and nestled her in a snuggly towel against my chest and just held her, incredibly thankful that she was our daughter.

Once again, new jammies (for us both) and she started to perk up. So, to bed she went, and this time it looked promising. We too went to bed and watched her on the baby video monitor, just to make sure. This is when she pulled her blanket over her head and all I could think about was my poor baby suffocating in her own vomit because she was trapped under her blanket. Granted, her favorite baby blanket was strategically chosen for her, as it is crocheted and has holes to hopefully help in these kinds of situations, but I still could NOT go to sleep knowing she was covered.

Finally, she uncovered herself and I thought I could go to bed.

Aaaaaaand then she went right back in for the head cover. So, I took initiative, snuck in her room, uncovered her head, checked the monitor once again and she was good to go.

Finally…silence. Rest. Peace.

About 15 minutes later she started to cough a few times and we knew we were on to round three. It is terribly difficult watching your child throw up bile, or anything for that matter. The Hubby and I were extremely impressed with how she handled it all though. Not a tear, but more of a puke-and-rally kind of attitude.

Overall, we changed her jammies five times that night, her bedding four times, the Hubby’s PJs twice, and my own three times. We were both terribly exhausted the next day but the babe didn’t throw up anymore and was back to her normal self. That is all that matters.

I know we will have many of these nights ahead of us as parents, and although it is extremely hard to watch and incredibly draining, they are a mere twitch in life that can easily be forgotten with so many other wonderful memories consuming our lives. I am so thankful to have a hubby who was right at my side the entire night, not complaining once, as he too could only focus on the love that we have for that little Bean (not her vomit).

Welcome to parenthood?

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