Super Z came into my room at 4 a.m. this morning. He was crying, the miserable cry that children can only cry in the blackest hours of the night.
His ear was hurting him. It was hurting him like it has so many times before. He was crying in the same way that he cried when he was 13 months old and had an ear infection for 3 months straight.
He got tubes when he was 15 months old. That was a small miracle for us. The boy who couldn't go three weeks without an ear infection went for years.
But when he came in last night, I knew exactly what to do. It all came back to me.
I picked my baby up and carried him into the living room. After a dose of Tylenol and an ear drop, I held him in my lap and rocked him.
We said a prayer together asking Jesus to help his ear feel better. After that he asked me if I would hold him until he went to sleep.
I agreed and just continued rocking my baby as the clock moved closer to 5.
When he was finally asleep, I held him for a bit longer. I felt him breathing against my neck and I breathed in the scent of him. The scent that has changed from that of a baby to a that of a boy since the last ear infection.
After a while I was able to lay him down and head back to bed. He slept peacefully for the rest of the night.
I went in and woke him up this morning to ask how he was feeling. The boy who usually greets the morning with tears smiled sweetly and said, "Don't worry, Mom. You fixed it. I knew you would."
I wonder how long I will have the power to fix things? I hope he thinks so for a really long time.