Warm, my arms are still warm from holding his little body. The heat radiating from his little back, belly, underarms, was just pitiful. I held him most of today and my heart broke most of it too. He was hurting and there wasn't much I could do.
I am his Mommy. I couldn't do much, but I did what I could.
I traipsed into his room at 8:15 this morning. He woke me with a sad wail, not the usual cheery, jibber-jabber. Picking him up I noticed his wet clothing. "Aw, you wet through your diaper huh, little guy?" But that smell, what was that?
It didn't take long to find out. After getting him cleaned up and a fresh outfit pulled over his tossled red mop, was walked into the living room and took our usual "breakfast" seat. He ate rapidly, and promptly tossed up his "eggs Benedict". I was confused. Perhaps, I had too much dairy the day before? He has been known to not handle large amounts well.
After cleaning him up once again, he decided to let loose another time on the dining room floor. This baffled me for but a moment...that smell again. "He must've vomited this morning in bed too," I concluded.
All of this continued throughout the morning: eat, complain, vomit, hungry again, eat, complain, vomit. Lovely.
We had an appointment already with a brand new pediatrician. And this is how she would meet our little man? Oh I'm sure she'll love us. "Oh look, here comes the lady with the baby who puked all over our office." Nothing like a good first impression.
3:30pm rolled around and he did puke. on the floor. in room number 4. She said it was a virus. And I nod. And we leave.
He's never been sick before. But, there's a first time for everything, right? And now, in the car on the way home, I wish that this overly used and rather trite statement wasn't true, for the baby boy's sake and mine.
Daddy greets us at the door. He holds the scrawny tidbit. Will manages a smile. We go inside. I cry a few tears through the evening as every meal comes right back up. The Doctor calls to check on him. She says she'll call again tomorrow.
I miss my happy baby. But what I miss more is the absence of pain.
I hold him and I love him. And Daddy holds him too. And he wants me again so I hug him some more and make him drink. His lips are parched and creased with lack of fluid. He licks his dry mouth, "Mama-mama-mama-maaa," he whimpers and I whisper, "I know baby, you're gonna be OK." This fever he has is his body fighting and trying to win a war with the foreign germs inside. I could give him something to ease the pain. But, if I just let him work through the pain, he'll be stronger next time.
And I think of how my Heavenly Father must weep at times when I am hurting. He holds me in His Almighty hand and rocks me to sleep, and I rest in His will. Though it hurts and I wish I wasn't there in the valley, He wishes I wasn't too. He is so Wonderful to weep with us, to work through us and to wait on us.
There are times when He decides to let us work through the pain, instead of take it away. To endure the wounds of sorrow, instead of patching them immediately. He lets us hurt, so that we'll cuddle up next to Him and seek His hands of comfort and love.
Lord, thank You, for holding me when sorrow overwhelms and I seek to drown it with my tears. Thank You for loving me, even when my soul smells like sickness. You're there every time for everything. There's a first time for everything...and I know it won't be the last.