When Ian was a baby, he had really bad reflux. I mean really bad reflux. I used to wash eight of his outfits for every one of Claudia’s I put in the laundry. These are real numbers. I used to count them. I would say for the first six months of his life, Ian threw up an average of 11 times a day, with three or four being projectile. We used to have a family bed, and I had to change our sheets every single day because of Ian. On the days Melissa would come to help me she would bring three shirts. My Mom used to bring extra shirts and pants.
This morning, Ian woke up at 5:45. I got him some milk and brought him into our room to lay down with me while he drank it. He’s been a little congested lately, and after he pounded the milk, he puked in my bed. It was oddly sentimental. Motherhood does strange things to people.