Naomi was sick on me after her midnight feed. Not just sick, this would have put the excorcist to shame. It went everywhere, all over my chest, in my top, down my left shoulder and arm. Hardly any on herself so the girl has good aim.
Hubby (bless his tired and sleep deprived heart) starts mopping it up with an already wet bib that’s about the size of my palm. He concentrates on the, ahem, chest area.
I ask him for something more absorbent because it’s now dripping down my leg and he wanders off into the darkness of the hallway.
A few minutes later he returns with a marginally larger bib. I wipe Naomi and the still flowing liquid before handing her over and jumping in the shower.
I feel wide awake now. Gah! It’ll take me ages to get to sleep and it’s not like I have it banked up OR will have the opportunity to catch up over the next 3 years. I return to the bedroom, Hubby already fast asleep. I curse him as I walk round to my side of the bed and see that it’s all wet with sick. I get in anyway and shuffle over to Hubbys side when Naomi starts grunting and I, as sweetly as possible think, “please shut up and go to sleep”. She continues telling us she isn’t happy. She’s been sick again. I feel bad for thinking what I just thought, man I friggin’ hate Mum Guilt.
Hubby starts doing the cycle bike with her legs because she’s got wind before lying down next to her, nose to nose. She looks like she’s working on pushing something out and I remark to Hubby how I’m feeling scared. Scared of what? he asks. Well, if the number two is so big it’s made her throw up then I’m pretty terrified of what’s to come…
We put her back down and try to fall asleep whilst listening to the hard-working yet frustrated grunts of our newborn. Only an hour until next feed and I can’t help feeling a slight trepidation about what’s to come…
Until next time,