Other Kinds of Happiness

I have always liked having the littlest ones beside me while they sleep, because as soon as he starts to throw up I can hear it. The distress he feels wakes me even before the mess begins.

I hold him while he empties his stomach, comfort him, try to get him to drink. He won't. Immediately my brain goes into "must get liquids into the child or he will die" mode. I can let him sleep for now, but I won't relax until he drinks.

Then I gather up all his blankets that are soiled. I wrap other ones around him. I used to think it was such a burden to have so many blankets - they probably own 15 each, because my grandmother-in-law buys them multiple new ones every year. But now that winter is here I am grateful for every yard of fleece that I own.

I throw the blankets into the washer. I know the dials by heart. I don't even need to turn the light on. Laundry detergent, sweet-smelling fabric softener, I can see them in the dark and pour the right amounts into the regular cycle with an extra rinse.

Then I pour myself back into bed. When he wakes up again to to repeat the performance an hour and a half later, I rotate the laundry. It's amazing that I am not too tired to do it - I who am so lazy and like to do things half-way, somehow biology kicks in when the little ones are sick and I don't mind anymore. I like the crisis. Laundry is rotated and he goes back to sleep, but he still refuses to take a sip of water.

We are still snowed in and my wonderful husband calls into work. It will take him hours to get us dug out and ready to travel again, and we have to be protective of the one car that we have. So he will be home all day and I get to sleep in, hours past my normal waking time. The baby is still asleep. His diaper is dry and I am still worried about dehydration.

Finally I get up, make some echinacea tea for the older children, and make sure all are fed. When the dishes are done and put away I make a nice sippy cup of purple juice and take it into the room where the little one is sleeping. I wrap my arm around him. His eyes flutter open and he reaches for the cup. He gulps down the entire cup.

My eyes flood with relief - if he can drink, he will be fine, I know. It's almost silly, this kind of biological love that makes one cry simply because of a drink. But I remember that this love is only a picture, and how much more does God cry with joy when I remember to eat the food that is real bread drink the living water.

A morning like this, exhaustion and relief, being there for someone who is sick, having someone be there for you when you are tired, these are very good things. Even now, the rank smell ofa diaper that needs changed is making me happy because it means that things are moving as they should. There are so many kinds of happiness in loving and being loved.