For a while now I've been one of those nut jobs who believes that things happen for a reason. Even when I miscarried in 2008 and endured the darkest days of my life, I believed there was a reason in the end.
This year has been full of so much change in Lovie's life. So much growth. All good, necessary stuff, but a lot of it, nevertheless.
Last night I got a taste of the reason behind all that change when I spent half the night on the floor in her room beside her bed.
At about 1AM I heard a bunch of commotion and because I had to pee, I was able to wake more completely. Good thing because moments later, Taye brought in Lovie wearing only a pullup. She had puked everywhere, the poor thing.
She didn't have a temperature and wasn't really complaining about anything, she just puked. A lot. Everywhere in her room (somehow even the room darkening shades got hit!).
So she laid with me in bed for a bit. A long bit, actually. I know I fell asleep telling her spooky stories. And then she started tossing and turning and whining and ... more puke. Blech, blech, blech.
Again, she didn't complain much, just puked and got it over with.
Because I needed to change her into her third set of jammies for the night, we ended up back in her room where I laid on Gigantor Bear- a five foot stuffed bear I picked up last year from Costco. The rest of the "night" I laid there on Gigantor Bear while she slept in her bed beside me. She tossed and turned a lot. And when she wasn't tossing and turning, I was resting my hand on her to make sure I could feel some breathing.
It wasn't a fun evening but could've been oh so much worse. She never had a fever, she just puked several times.
This morning she seems perfectly fine.
What "reason" did I come to terms with last night regarding all the growth and change from this past year? Had she still been in a crib, it would've been one helluva a long ass night.