You awaken in the middle of the night by that innate mother's ear that is always listening for the sounds of your children. Your eyes open quickly and your feet start to swing off the bed before you are even fully awake. You grab your robe and head to the bedroom across the hall.
It is immediately apparent that your child is going to be sick within seconds. You try to scoot them out from under their sheets in order to carry them quickly to the bathroom. Not going to happen so you turn and reach for the wastebasket. Too late! The sheets and bedspread are now a mess.
Does this phase you at all? Nope. Your husband, having been wakened by your child's crying, is now beside you ready to strip the bed while you change the pj's and softly cuddle the little one. Fresh new clothes, cool/soft sheets, tears all dried you settle the child back into bed. You and your husband return to your room. He falls easily back to sleep. You? Not so easily. You stare into the blackness concentrating on the sounds of the night. There! Your child calls "Mommy!" and off you go, again, this time successful in getting to the bathroom. You shut the door to keep your voices contained so your spouse can get his rest. Again your child empties what is left in their stomach then needs to sit on the commode. After all is done you take a cool washcloth and softly wipe their face and neck and chest to help them feel refreshed. Back to the bed, tucking the sheets around their body. You turn off the light and sit in the dark until you hear the even, relaxed breathing. Then you soundlessly go back to the bathroom to clean up the sink and commode. How easily we do this. Without even thinking about the distastefulness of it all. The protective love we feel takes us beyond the mess and the smell and the laundry. This is our baby and we will cover them with our wings keeping them from any harm. Anytime. Anywhere.
Then why is it when we have to clean up after a child that is not ours we react differently? Do we help them? Yes! Do we do whatever we must? Absolutely! But now the sensual details listed above come to play in an uncomfortable fashion and !UGH! Not so easy to ignore, are they? An observation which I was forced to confront recently and, if I may say so, carried off the diaper duty with much (gag) aplomb! Now don't get any ideas--even though I was proud of myself I have no desire to repeat the activity more than I must!
