Pardon my French 😉
Earlier this week I wrote a deep, reflective piece of how God has graciously revealed blind spots in my life. It was wrought out of about 5 days of really being honest with where I am in this process. Click here to read the post on My Broken Pieces.
Then… as if my pain was not enough… it’s as if I was missing the “cherry on top” – along came Thursday…
Much of my childhood I recall being sick. I would catch anything that was going around and my own anxiety created more than my fair share of tummy-aches. As an adult, I have enjoyed a healthier life but take germs seriously. We all know that children tend to be little germ sponges. Children in daycare… that is a whole other level. Because I am a praying woman, my prayers often go like this… dear Jesus, thank you for bringing this precious child into our home…please let us get through this whole placement without getting sick. deal? amen.
Deal or no deal? …no deal.
Wednesday night bedtime was a bit more whiny than usual. Daniel looked at me puzzled – like I would know the cause? Around 1:30am, baby girl woke up… she wasn’t acting like her normal self that sleeps soundly through the night. She just wanted to be held. So I did. And I held her almost all night long as she slept on my chest. Then… I put her back in her crib around 4:45 because I heard Sissy calling my name from the other room. So I went in to comfort and assure her it was too early to get out of bed….when it happened…she said…look, I spit up right here. Oh No… say it isn’t so… is that what I think it is… please No! It’s all in her long beautiful hair, on her beautiful little face and pajamas. As I began to clean her up (holding my breath), Prissy wakes up and asks what’s wrong with Sissy. I told her not to worry, she just spit up a little bit. Prissy said, oh then you need to change my sheets too… I spit up over here. As she sat up and revealed the mess that she had quietly slept in… I was devastated. And then it started… I walked slowly out of the room into our bathroom where Daniel was getting ready… with the look of death on my face I said… I know what’s wrong with our girls. What? The stomach virus is here. You have to come help clean this up.
As I tried to hold the bucket for Prissy, my own personal weakness set in, I yelled for back-up as I ran to the nearest bathroom – where I found Sissy trying to get her dirty pajamas off and I immediately began gagging over the toilet. So picture this… one twin in the bed letting it all out, one twin in the bathroom trying to get out of it and one mama that’s losing her (well, you know). Sissy is telling me she needs to poop… right now… I’m begging her to give me ONE minute so I can stop gagging… Daniel is assisting Prissy as she’s unloading dinner and Baby girl is in her crib screaming.
This is what Christmas cards are made of. These moments.
So, I did what any responsible mother of three would do in this moment. I called my mom. She just so happens to be staying a mile away in a condo for the month of November. There is a God!
24 hours later and we’re back on our feet. The house is disinfected and life is returning. I just have to laugh at my life these days. All the protective strategies I’ve built to avoid situations like these and I walk right into it.
I have to flash back to May where I built this list of…
Things they don’t teach you in licensing class:
1. You need a hazmat suit…or two. Because when children vomit it’s a lot like a murder scene.
2. White bedding – ain’t no one got time for that.
3. All those pretty pillows? Targets for projectile.
4. Carpet? Rip it out.
5. Consider putting a drain in the center of the room so hosing it down is an option.
6. Teddy bears…. innocent victims. We had three go down.
7. That smell… there’s no cure. It will stay with you for years I fear.
Please.send.help. pray for us people! #mynightmare
Anyway, we are survivors. Thanks for joining in my momentary suffering. 😉 #lovedoes