The worst sight you can wake up to in our house is a baby lying in his crib with his feeding tube dangling from his face instead of in his nose where it belongs.
Like this morning.
When we find that the baby has pulled his tube out of his nose/tummy, if you were a fly on our wall, you’d hear copious amounts of cussing.
Because it means we have to hold him down and thread it back in his nostril, down his throat and into his belly.
The baby does not like this process, which should go without saying. Who would?
It was hard enough when he was a tiny little baby.
Who couldn’t assign blame.
Now he screams his head off during the process. He gags when it threads down the back of his throat. And then he screams some more.
When it’s all done, with tears streaming down his face, gives me that look.
YOU did this, you bitch!
Isn’t it enough that I have to do something that only a freaking medical professional should do?
Must I also have to feel guilty about it?
But there is one up side — we get the chance to snap a few pictures without a freaking ng tube taped to our beautiful baby’s face. Something that mars almost all of our photos from the last 7 months.
Here’s one of those rare non-ng-tube pics.
Or maybe I’m just his mama.
And here’s a gratuitous shot of my boys snapped at the same time as the other photo.
Yes, Asher is wearing a Spiderman costume, and no, it isn’t Halloween.
It’s just another day in the life of a 5-year-old superhero.
Which reminds me. Can spiderman, batman and buzz lightyear costumes go into the washing machine? Cuz they need to. They really, really need to.
This week, we finally get a vacation from our long, long bedrest and preemie saga.
And I’m shedding everything from the last 7 months, except the beautiful child we brought home.
Out with the worry.
Out with the stress.
Out with the hospitals and (most of ) the doctor visits.
And in a ritual only a woman can understand, out with 6 inches of hair.
In with fun.
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