“Mommmmmmmyyyyyyy” cries out over the monitor at 9:47 pm. I grab a towel and rush into Stanton’s room sensitive to the turmoil he is struggling against inside his belly. My mind immediately runs down the checklist: all doses of medicine today? check; foods today? oh yes – how could I forget the five macaroni noodles I was thrilled he swallowed at 4:30. Mystery solved…
… I spread the towel on the floor, pick him up and sit him on my lap. We wait for the wave of vomit to overtake us. Once the heaving begins, I know this is a just a sample of what the night holds. I steady my mind and center my breathing hoping that the simple rhythm of my body can be of comfort to him. Equally covered in slimy vomit, I slowly take off his pajamas and do my best to wipe him down. He won’t let go of me, making this a most complicated task in the dark. I then take off my covered shirt and put a clean towel between us.
We sit, rock and catch our breath, both fully aware we’ll do this dance again in a few hours.
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