I thought we were having a moment.
I was gazing into the eyes of my 3 week old, and she was looking back at me. I saw recognition in her eyes; dare I say it, maybe even love. After weeks of changing diapers and breastfeeding and holding and caressing and being with her 24/7, was she finally, finally realizing that I was her mother? Was that adoration I saw in her eyes?
As I felt tears welling up in my own, she puked. All over herself. All over me.
So much for love.
It was not affection, after all, that was welling up inside her, but digested breast milk. Nakita was turning out to be like her big sister Kaya – a puker. This means bibs for Nakita. It seems silly to put a bib on a one-month old who doesn’t even have teeth yet to consume food, but when they are throwing up five times a day, it saves constantly having to change their clothes. When Kaya was little, she would throw up and I while I was changing her, she would throw up again. We went to Mexico when she was 3 months old. She threw up so much that by day 3 she had gone through a weeks worth of clothes. I ended up washing all of her clothes – twice. By hand. In the hotel room sink. It sucked.
So its bibs for little Nakita. I don’t care if she looks ridiculous. It saves me time and energy, plus infants already look funny. She’s got a comb-over and acne, farts all the time, and the back of her hair usually has some crusty throw-up in it. She’s kind of a cross over between an old man and a teen-ager. But she’s my funny looking baby, and I love her.
Plus, I swear she smiled at me today and if she could have talked, she would have said, “I love you mom. Now stand back. I’m about to puke.”