Last week marked my husband's return to work -- and the inevitable first week that I would be home alone with Baby. All was well until my baby's belly button fell off.
It was Day Two of My First Week Alone, at around 4:00 pm, only two more hours until my husband would be home, at which time I desperately hoped to take a shower. I was semi-confidently nursing Baby on the couch. Suddenly, Baby looked up at me, scrunched his face, and let out a wail to end all wails. When I picked him up to see what might have caused Baby's Suffering Wail, what was left of his umbilical cord fell from his adorable tummy onto the couch. Convinced that I had somehow painfully caused the thing to detach while nursing him, I started crying, too.
Nevertheless, in an effort to soothe Baby's cries, I started nursing him again. And although nursing soothed Baby, I was in an outright panic. I put the belly button on the couch cushion next to me and decided that I absolutely had to get to the nursery so that I could look up umbilical cords in The Baby Book.
I attempted to continue to nurse Baby as I made my way to the nursery. This proved to have been a mistake. When I finally made it to The Baby Book, Baby vomited all over himself and my chest.
At this point, I felt sure that I was unfit to be a mother. Not only had I knocked off my precious one's umbilical cord (the symbolism of such a brutal act was not lost on me), but then I ostensibly caused him to vomit all over himself. Now I had a baby in wet, spit-up clothes with a missing umbilical cord.
I changed Baby and within an hour we were back to "normal." When my husband came home and asked how my/our day was, I pointed to the umbilical cord that was still on the couch cushion. He picked it up, examined it, and proclaimed, "Cool."