A vicious parasite had taken over the house. It was clear upon entry to our home that we were not well. The abode was a mess and an aroma of illness had become entrenched. No room was spared. It was my day to stay in bed. Mike was doing his best under great duress to man the offspring in the TV room. Well, actually the television was doing most of the work, but he was in charge of the remote.
Chaylee had not yet fallen victim to the pending affliction but was showing signs of weakness. Her temperature was on the rise and her demeanor was in decline. We could tell her demise was eminent.
I laid in bed in nauseous agony feeling sorry for myself. Not only had I become host to a cruel and unusual parasite but, I was still in the throws of morning sickness and mild to moderate depression as a result of rabid hormones, homesickness and baby shock. All I could think about was my two arms. TWO. Only two arms had I–one for Chay and one for Kenna. I could hear the baby cry already. I could hear her desperation and desire to feed and be changed. All I could see was need all around me– need and my lack of a third arm.
Amidst my despair I could hear the pitter patter of footy jammies approaching. It was my daughter. My beautiful little girl, Chaylee, was coming to me in search of comfort. Her prominent, kind eyes hovered above the crest of the bed. I picked her up and pulled her in close. It gave me great pleasure to console her. Perspective had been restored. Motherhood felt, once again, like a great blessing; a reward in itself.
“Oh Chay, Momma loves you…You okay honey?” My mouth was agape with words of love and affection.
He could hear the screaming over the television and through two shut doors. He rushed in to find us both covered in an obscene amount of vomit and me scrubbing my tongue furiously with a quilt, tears cascading down my face.
“It’s in my mouff…..(sob)….she threw up in my mouff (sob, sob) I can feel some in my froat…(sob, heave, wail)” The muffled cries were barely audible through the blanket that I had shoved in my mouth.
Chaylee was sitting beside me cloaked in her own vomit. Her hair was matted with partially digested food. None of it was identifiable which meant it had been sitting in there a while just waiting for the perfect moment to re emerge.
As with the leech incident, my ability to effectively cope in an emergency situation was once again brought into question. Did I seek to comfort Chaylee? No. She seemed happy enough to be rid of the ruminating remnants of dinner. Did I stand up and set aside the soiled bedding and clothing for stain treatment before calmly accessing the showering facilities? No. I just sat there weeping, stupefied…rhythmically scraping my tongue with a small patch of vomit free bedding.
Mike took the reigns and helped Chaylee and I out of bed and into the bathroom as I continued to cry. I collected myself and took Chay into the shower with me. I washed her hair while simultanously gulping as much water as I could. About every two minutes I would gag involuntarily in rememberance. What I really wanted to do sit on the cool tile under the hot water rocking back and forth in the fetal position. But, a little girl needed me to wash her hair. And that need prevented me from wallowing in my own despair.
Sure, I will be living with yet another human who is incapable of controlling her bodily functions for a period of time. Yes, another little soul will need me and my breasts in the wee hours of the night when I would rather be sleeping. Perhaps the danger of me choking on someone else’s vomit will increase with her birth. But this little someone needs me and it’s time to get out of the fetal position and step up to the challenge which has been placed before me. I may not have enough arms for the job, but I think I have a big enough heart for the task at hand.
So, welcome to the family sister. Momma’s here!
Aussie Words of the Day
Chunder: To vomit (usually from being drunk)
Sook: A weak-willed person who is likely to burst into tears at the slightest provocation. Also called a cry-baby.
Sickie: A sick person.
“You too might turn into a right sook if a sickie ankle biter chundered in your mouth.
Yes, we are having another little girl. Mike will be selecting a male dog to live with us upon our return to the United States.
- If you are interested in becoming bulimic, have someone regurgitate INTO your mouth. You will never need to stick your finger down your throat again. All you will need to do is reminisce about the experience and gagging will come naturally.
- Do not snuggle face to face with a host of a parasite. Instead, point the infected party in the opposite direction of your face.
Would you rather:
a. Expose your buttox to a park full of picnickers (See I Just Couldn’t Swing It )
b. Fall victim to accidental nudity due to a freak thunderstorm (See Nuddy in a Southerly Buster )
c. Be attacked by blood sucking leeches (See Man Vs. Wild)
d. Have your child vomit in your mouth?
How far along are you? — 23 weeks
Feeling any better about it all? — Yes, I think so.
Any names picked out? — A few ideas, but still undecided.. Feel free to post suggestions.
Where are you having the baby? — Northshore Private Hospital here in Sydney.
Will she be considered an Aussie? In our hearts, but technically she will be an American Citizen.