From the bathroom floor...

I wish to share a moment.

Mikey was sick, so sick that he had to leave and go lay in the car. We were finishing dinner on our own; it had been a long day. Elina, usually a perfect eater, kept spitting out her food and screaming. The glances she attracted required my to take action.

I walked into the bathroom of the restaurant with Elina crying in my arms. I locked the door behind me and found that there was no changing table. I laid my coat on the cold tile and checked her diaper, convinced that the reason she started wailing during dinner was due to her chronic constipation.

By the time I realized what was going to happen it was too late. The stream of pee came at me and sprayed on Elina's legs and gathered on the floor. The anger welled inside of me. I spit out a harsh "NO!" and watched her tear-stained face crumple. My heart stung with guilt. I tried to tell myself Elina didn't mean to do it, she had no way of knowing she was causing a problem.

Elina's crying grew more intense. She squirmed and chewed her fingers...and then it hit me...

Teething. The two front teeth were poking out and must be aching terribly.

At this point it got worse. Elina was overwhelmed; I was overwhelmed. She jerked back and hit her little forehead hard on the tile. There was that pregnant pause, that one that happens when a baby gets hurt and they are just in shock at what has just happened, and it takes there breath away.

I scooped up Elina and held her against my chest as she screamed and screamed. Mikey was outside, I was all on my own, and there was nothing I could do.

It was in this moment...helpless, overwhelmed, alone; this is when I had an unexpected moment of clarity. When life goes wrong, I am a fixer and I am a runner. I find a way to make things better. If I don't have an answer I will search far and fast to find a solution. I tend to focus on the solution, so as to not get caught up in the problem.

But there, on the bathroom floor, in that moment, all I could do was wait. All I could do was hold her and tell her she was going to be alright.

It was just me and my girl there, and all I could give her was me.

Me was enough.

The night did not magically get better. We all had one of the longest nights of our lives, even with tylenol. I did gain something though, there on that floor. I realized that I was Elina's mother and that maybe that is worth more than all the things I can provide for her.

I can try to make her life wonderful, give her things I never had. I can find all the supplements and therapy treatments to give her developmental support. All of these things are good, but they will never replace who I am to Elina as a mother.

How is that for simplicity?