It's about 4:30 am and Jack stirs, wanting to nurse. He must have slept a long time, because I'm pretty sure we're in the same position we were in when we fell asleep. That's good and bad. I'm wide awake from all the rest, but I'm engorged. I know he's going to cough when I feed him.
Sure enough, he finishes eating and it starts. The medicine is helping, but not fast enough for anyone, and his last dose was about 8 hours ago. After the first couple times, we move to the couch where I can keep him on my chest, close to my heartbeat, and in a more upright position. It seems to help. What else can I do?
I want to change his diaper, but putting him on his back would make it worse. He's so tired, fighting so hard to go back to sleep. Daddy gets up and holds him while I make myself comfortable. We'll probably be out here for the rest of the night.
I check my email to distract myself from his pain. When he coughs I rub his back and whisper words of comfort, "I'm here. Mommy's got you. You're ok. It's going to be ok. Just relax..." as he strains. Even though it must hurt like hell, he doesn't cry.
I think of all the other moms who might be awake tonight. I think of my friend whose baby just got out of the hospital, and another who is out of town on business and missing her boys, and especially a brand new mommy who is waiting to find out whether or not she's having a miscarriage. I send little prayers to each of them, wishes sent through the darkness for comfort, peace, health, safe travel, and for a tenacious little embryo who will beat the odds.
It's so hard, I hate to see my little man in pain. I wish so much that I could take it away. All I can do is keep him upright and whisper words of love to him. I hope it's enough. I think of all the other moms and dads out there who are up right now, doing the exact same thing.
He's quieter now. I'm going to close my eyes and try to rest.