warning...lots of references to poop (but no pictures)...read at your own risk...
Ryan's been sick. Not horribly sick. In fact, if you didn't know, you wouldn't be able to tell from just watching him. He's his usual happy, funny, little boy. But he's got the runs and a horrible diaper rash.
On Sunday we went for a little hike up the canyon. Ryan loves watching Abby run all over like a mad dog and he loves watching the leaves and the trees. And this time, Ryan especially loved hearing the water in the creeks. We had such a nice time.
But when we got home, Ryan was sitting in a pool of poop. And it wasn't pretty.
On Monday afternoon he started pooping every hour on the hour and it was painful both for Ryan and for us to watch him suffer. He'd poop and then cry. Now this little boy doesn't cry very much and when he does, he doesn't cry for long. But if he's got a reason to cry, boy, it is heartbreaking to hear. It's genuinely so SAD sounding.
So Tony and I would take him into the bathroom where we had a makeshift changing station by the sink. Ryan was crying in pain the whole time. We'd wash his little red bum by squirting warm water and then pat it dry and slather it with diaper rash cream. And as soon as he was diapered and clean, he would start smiling again.
But an hour later, we'd start all over.
Those of you mothers out there know what I'm talking about. And I know you're going to tell me you never stop worrying. And you never stop hurting when your child hurts.
The thing is, I always knew my parents loved me. I knew they hurt when I hurt.
But now, I get it. I really get it.
So for all the times when that hurt wasn't from natural causes like a skinned knee or from uncontrollable forces such as the dumb boy I was dating...for all the times when that hurt was because I chose to hurt you or others, I'm sorry.
Because if that hurt is anything like watching Ryan cry as I washed his little red bum, well, I'm just sorry. So so sorry. But I'm also grateful for you. So so grateful.
And I love you. So so love you.
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