Now I Know How Noah Feels

Last Friday, we took the longest car trip of our life back from Arkansas. We were driving on winding roads early in the morning and Sam got carsick. We pulled over, he threw up, we got back on the road, and we went a bit slower. Then Noah decided he didn't want to sleep, at least not in the car seat. He cried so much that Joy hopped out of the car to rock him while we were stopped for a lane closure, and we finally pulled over in the middle of nowhere Arkansas where there was only a small rest stop for miles around to eat lunch while Joy rocked Noah desperately hoping he would sleep.

Since all that happened in the first 2 1/2 hours, you can imagine how we felt by the time we rolled into home 7 hours later.

I couldn't sleep that night and woke up feeling achy and sick. Joy had Kindermusik demonstrations scheduled, so I bravely tried to keep the kids and even took Noah and Sam up for a spell, but elected to go home after almost throwing up twice in the bathroom. I lay around barely able to move all day, having almost no control over my gastrointestinal system and only slightly more over my gross motor movements. Sam figured the ability to jump on me and crawl all over me without protest was too good to pass up, so while Noah hung out with Joy and her teachers at the demo, I sat at home being pommeled and hardly caring. But somewhere in the entire ordeal, a realization struck: this is how Noah feels every day. He can't control his body movements, he's constantly spitting up, and strange people are constantly doing strange things to him. Whoever said babies have it easy definitely doesn't remember the feeling.