You know, there are some days when pregnancy and motherhood turn life completely topsy-turvy. Last Tuesday was one of those days for me. Before the events of that morning happened, I was fully prepared to
complain to you tell you about how I had blacked out while throwing up, bruised my eye on the way down and came back to covered in stomach contents.
But, trust me, that whole scenario now pales in comparison to what happened last week.
The day started out like any other. Jacob woke up at 7:30, as usual. He had his breakfast and morning playtime, as usual, then seemed ready for his nap three hours later, again, as usual.
That, however, is where the normalcy of the morning ended.
I laid him down for his nap, and he let out a few small cries but quieted down within a minute or two. Since it usually takes him five or 10 minutes to calm down, I should have known something was wrong then. But I heard him jabbering to himself and figured we’d made great advances in self-soothing and solo playtime.
Not so much.
After about 10 minutes, I decided to peek my head in to check on him. I could smell disaster before I even reached the door. When I turned the doorknob, there he was: politely chattering away as he finger-painted his crib—and himself—with poop.
Immediately, I pulled off his clothes and whisked him into the tub. If I weren’t a nauseous pregnant lady, that might have been the end of my story. But, I AM a nauseous pregnant lady, and so the fun continued a few moments later.
I scrubbed down his major surfaces without incident but, apparently, cleaning the remnants of last night’s dinner from underneath his fingernails was just too much for my delicate constitution. Almost before I knew it—certainly before I could aim my head elsewhere—I had reached an all-time motherhood and pregnancy low: I threw up directly into my baby’s bathwater.
Like I said, pregnancy and motherhood have a way of turning your world topsy-turvy. When they do, you clean up the mess, and then you move on—but never before you blog about it first.