Mama's here.

My little man has some sort of stomach bug, and I've cleaned up (and caught in my bare hands) two particularly disgusting types of bodily fluids within the past 24 hours. Which naturally reminded me that my son is perhaps the only person in the world I would do that for. And so I wrote him a letter. (Also, I feel like I often end up writing these things when he's sick, which makes it seem like he's sick a lot, and he's actually a very healthy child. Having a sick little one just makes me feel like writing, I guess?)

Dear Lucas,

I will confess, my precious love, that I wasn't very patient early yesterday morning when you woke up in an extra cranky mood. You had no symptoms (yet,) and you didn't feel feverish, so I thought it was just a case of "wrong-side-of-the-bed-itis."

Then your crankiness continued, and I finally realized (only after our friends came over and you shared food with their son, of course) that you were sick. I made you a little bed on the floor, and you stayed curled up there all morning, content to be watching Curious George and lying next to mommy.

It wasn't until late afternoon after I thought you were finally feeling better that you threw up - on the carpet at the top of the stairs we were just about to walk down and then into my waiting hands. Daddy and Mr. Ryan brought wet paper towels and a garbage can, and we cleaned up my crying little boy as well as we could.

As I rocked you, stripped down to your onesie at the top of the stairs, you said a phrase that has become your mantra when you're scared or upset or hurting - "Mama's here." I've said it to you dozens (maybe hundreds) of times when you wake up crying or fall down hard. "Mama's here." And now you regularly say it to calm yourself before I even get the chance. "Mama's here." You said it to yourself - and to me - several times throughout the course of the evening. Lying on the floor, feverish head on my lap - "Mama's here." As I changed your diaper while you cried from tired eyes and protested against bedtime - "Mama's here." As I rocked your too-warm little body to sleep - "Mama's here."

You say it to comfort yourself, but I think it comforts me even more. I am your constant. My sleepless nights and long, long days haven't been wasted. You believe that I can fix things. Make things better. Put your world right when everything's going wrong. My presence is your source of contentment. It's a little intimidating at times, but it makes me feel so blessed to be your mommy.

And I will always be here for you, love. Whether you scrape your knee or your problems are too big to be fixed by just a cuddle and a kiss, you can count on me. Mama's here.

Love,
Mama