Cale threw up last night. A lot. I tell this story not to gross you out (sorry to those of you who are reading this and eating a sandwich) but to point to a realization I made. The throwing up was gross, first time for this baby. I was doing my bible study sitting on the bathroom floor (don't ask) when I heard him crying in his room. I went in there and tried to put his pacifier back in his mouth in the dark when I realized he was making choking noises...I ran with him into our room hollering "Oh no!" (nice way to wake Shawn up) and made it to the sink before round two started. (round one was all over his bedding) I cleaned up my boy, handed him over to his daddy, and took the whole mess of bedding downstairs to be cleaned. When I came back upstairs, Cale literally hurled his whole self at me, and immediately wrapped his arms and legs around me and snuggled into my neck. I decided to abandon my bible study and enjoy this little display of affection. I turned off the lights, and we put him in bed between us. As he laid there trying to go to bed, he reached for my hand with his. As I lay there in the dark, my finger being squeezed by his chubby little hand, I realized something. He needs me. He doesn't feel well, and reaching out in the dark and holding his mommy's hand makes him feel better. Someone really NEEDS me, not just keeps me around because they like me. I am an imperfect, mistake making sinner, and I am still the person he needs most in the world! I was gripped with the awesome, brilliant responsibility that comes with this mothering thing......and how there isn't a "responsibility" I have ever taken on so readily or with so much conviction. I am honored and grateful he needs me, because frankly, I sort of need him too.
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