It Happened to Me

A friend of mine just recently wrote about a few things she learned while cleaning up her son's vomit and while reading her blog post I thought that I was lucky because Sariah had never vomited. Sure, she spit-up after nursing for months, but the clean up was minimal and normally only required a change of onesie or bib.

But today, it happened to me. I mean, it happened to Sariah and so it happened to me as well.

That is right. This post is about one of those not-so-pretty parts of parenthood...

After a few dark and rainy days, I woke up excited that the sun was out and we could finally go on a long walk. I got ready, we had breakfast and I had just changed her diaper, put on her jacket and shoe when she started coughing and I knew more was to come. Sariah vomited all over herself, all over me, all over the carpet and as I rubbed her back and told her she would be okay, I kept thinking: What am I going to do?

I hate vomit.

I have not vomited since I was a small child.

The sight of vomit makes me gag. Really, the thought of vomit makes me gag.

I didn't know what to do, so I prayed aloud.

I took off all my clothes and all her clothes and pilled everything on top of the dirty carpet and proceeded to take care of my little girl.

I am often amazed at the ways parenthood brings me to the feet of Jesus because I cannot do it on my own. It took prayer for me to get over my "I hate vomit" moment and I am so glad that I can pray about big things and things that may even sound silly, like vomit.

Vomit happened all over me today, and as a result I happened to find myself at Jesus' feet asking for the kind of strength I cannot come up with on my own. I praise Jesus that I was somehow able to take care of Sariah and clean everything up without crying or dying.