He cried out, a piercing shriek in the dark of night. When I got to his room he looked up at me and then threw up all over himself. It was just past 11:00pm. He threw up once or twice every hour until 5:30am.
Over the course of the very long night we went through every crib sheet until I brought him to my bed, and then we went through every blanket and towel in our linen closet. In my arms he whimpered for me to hold him, to pull him closer. His face pale, his body limp, he cried out in exhaustion, fright, pain. My heart ached for him yet the feeling of him needing to be attached to me, our hearts beating together again, has brought me an unexpected dose of happiness in the purest form. I had no idea how much I needed that fill up.
If I wasn't living the reality I would almost swear my babes were still both swaddled bundles of spun sugar heaven and I was walking around in a sweet haze all day and night.
But catching him in my lens this week was another wake up call.
He'll be 5 next week!
From across the field he signs "I love you" to me. Like a blown kiss, I catch his words and sign them right back.
. . .