Oliver is sick... again. Poor bug, poor, poor, second child. He is getting everything his petri dish sister brings home from preschool, but as a baby it just manifests itself in so much more pitiful a package. Julia has been congested and sniffly for about 2 weeks now. However, when Oliver gets congested, it causes him to cough until he pukes. Particularly charming when he does it in the middle of the night... twice.
Last night the boy was up about once an hour, and just crying and flailing around in bed, unable to settle, just downright uncomfortable. He needed us to rock him back to sleep each time he woke. In the quiet of the middle of the night, through my exhaustion, I was also filled with wonder at what a beautiful, innocent sight it is to watch a baby slowly fall asleep, eyelids gradually getting heavy, blinks getting longer, face becoming calm, limbs becoming limp. I was also struck by what an amazing act of vulnerability, love and trust it is to fall asleep in someone else's arms.
As I held my little boy and was consumed by love and concern for him, it made me think about all of the unwanted children born in the world. Every child deserves to be welcomed and celebrated, and how lucky are my children that they are loved and cared for, their parents are concerned and consumed by providing for their well-being. Perhaps if every small person were welcomed into his or her family like my children were when they were born, maybe the world would be a slightly better place. At a minimum, every child deserves to be loved, and someone who is willing to rock them back to sleep in the wee hours of the night. Someone they love and trust enough to fall asleep in their arms.