The midnight hour

There is something about the stillness of nightfall that lends itself to deep thinking.  When the rest of the world is fast asleep, the fog lifts and clarity settles into my bones.  All of the thoughts and anxieties that have been zooming around my brain quiet.  The only thing remaining in that sacred space is the truth.  

Last night I woke to my little one's face peering over the side of the bed.  "Mama?  Can I come snuggle with you?"  I looked back and saw pink footy pajamas & the sweetest face staring back at me, searching mine for the answer she wanted.  What was there to possibly say in that moment except for of course, climb up.  I shifted over and made room for her.  Before I could even give her a kiss, she was asleep again.  

We lay there in the bed together, belly to belly, both of us completely content.  Every night for months, we lay in this exact same position while Alaina was still nursing.  For many moms the middle of the night feedings are torture.  Me?  I loved them.  In those moments, it felt like there was no one in the world but us.  I used to stare at her with wonder, completely in awe of the fact that my very imperfect self created this oh-so-perfect baby.  Last night I marveled once again at the perfect miracle next to me.

It amazes me that the tiny baby who used to fit in the crook of my arm has grown into a long and lanky little girl whose feet are now even with my knees. Spindly arms threw themselves loosely over my shoulder as if wanting to hug me, but too tired to hang on.  Long thick hair tangled underneath my fingers in place of the baby fuzz that once covered her head.  So much has changed.  So much is the same.  She turns her face into my chest and I can feel her exhale against me.  I stroked the palm of her hand, still so tiny in mine.  Her fingers instinctively opened and closed around mine.  Even far off in dreamland she wanted to hold on to me. The shape of her face with her perfect nose is still exactly the same as it was 5 years ago.

I don't do this enough.  In the hustle of everyday life I don't take enough time to slow down and just drink it all in.  It goes by too fast.  

So for the next hour I pulled my baby in closer and fell in love with her all over again.  I felt the weight of the responsibility God has given me.  The honor and the privilege, the abundant blessings she brings all rained down on me.  The knowledge that so many souls are aching, desperate for the chance to experience this. Others mourning the loss, knowing all too well that not all stories turn out this way.  My heart filled and gratitude washed over me as I offered up a silent prayer of thanksgiving.

Thank you.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Please let me go back

The top image was taken 3 days ago in Vega Baja, Puerto Rico.  The bottom image was in my neighborhood this morning.  The 72 hours between them have been filled with a very rocky flight, my baby having a stomach bug, a trip to the ER and absolutely no sleep.

3 days.  3 DAYS ago I was listening to the ocean crash and thinking of nothing in particular.  Today, I am afraid that I am at the beginning of the same bug that the tiny had.

I wanna go back to the island.

Roses are red...skin should not be

This weekend was Valentine's Day.  It is my least favorite holiday ever.

Ever.

But my sweet N is a bit of a romantic soul and I wanted to make it a special evening for her.  Since we've been on the go so much lately I thought a quiet dinner at home would be exactly what we needed.  I found a recipe for Ropa Vieja and decided to give it a go.  What's the worst thing that could happen?  If it turned out terrible, we would laugh it off and order a pizza.

Well....

I was wrong.

In the middle of prep work, I had a small-ish mishap with a hot pan and some grease that ended with extremely hot grease covering my upper body.  Did I mention that I was wearing a tank top?  I mean, it's December and we don't live in San Diego so any sane person would be in long sleeves.  But my stupid internal thermostat seems to think that it is always 95 degrees so I run around in the least amount of clothing possible.  For the first minute or two, I didn't even realize quite how bad it was.  Then I looked down to see that my arms and chest were turning bright red and beginning to blister.

Thankfully, my sweet friend Sarah was there and she got on the phone with the doctor, got Silvadene called in, and made sure that I was covered in it immediately.  Then she proceeded to load my dishwasher and dig out the aspirin while I laid on the couch trying to convince myself that my skin was not, in fact, melting off.  N got home from work and took over babying me.   We traded our fancy clothes for old pajamas, Channel perfume for medicinal cream.  Our romantic dinner took place on the couch and involved absolutely no candlelight.

But you know what?  This is what life is.  Real life.  Two people getting through an entire lifetime together and realizing that the most important thing is that we were together.  No movie about romance will ever show the lovebirds falling asleep on the couch at 8:30 on Valentine's Day.  But that is exactly what we did and it was glorious.  There will be another day for wine and candles.

Flame-less, battery operated candles.  Just to be safe.

Here's hoping that your Valentine's Day was far less eventful than ours.

Xoxo

Rules are made to be broken

My child does not sleep in the bed with me.

My child has her own bed and I have mine.

I don't want to start a bad habit that I'll have to break.

My child has never, not once, spent the night in my bed.

If I have said these words once, I have said them a thousand times.  It has been a hard and fast rule in our home, with no wiggle room, since Alaina came home from the hospital.

For 5 years, 7 months, and 13 days I didn't budge.

And then I broke the rule.

My baby has been waking up with nightmares for the last week or so and I have no idea what is causing them.  She knows they're not real but she needs a snuggle which I am happy to provide. I calm her down and tuck her back in under the covers.  As long as I am in the room, she starts drifting back off to sleep. After I leave, I do a 3 minute countdown and she's back up telling me she's scared to go to sleep because she doesn't want to have the bad dreams again.

Lather, Rinse, Repeat.

I am exhausted.  She is exhausted.  We are not girls who are on their best behavior when they are sleep deprived (Any of my friends will attest to that fact immediately).

Last night my baby came into the room, trembling with fear after waking from another nightmare.  I gathered her up in my arms and murmured soothing words into her hair as we rocked back and forth on the bed.  As she clung to my arms, begging me not to leave her something inside me broke.  Screw the rules.  I threw back the covers and snuggled her down, so tiny in the middle of our king bed.  10 seconds later she was snoring and I knew that sometimes rules just need to be broken.

Especially when they're interfering with my sleep.

My gut is always right except when it's wrong

I am intuitive.  Sometimes I just know things.  My gut is never wrong.  I don't listen to it occasionally because I don't want it to be right, but it is still accurate.  Of all the things that I can count on to be solid and consistent, my gut is the top of the list.

Until now.

It has been a rough week in our house.  There is a lot of transition going on within our home and within our extended families that has disrupted the peace a bit.  My tiny girl has been sick with Strep Throat which has led to sleepless nights for me and a ridiculous amount of Lysol.  Both of us are feeling under the weather as well and trying desperately to not get sick ourselves.  Sleep deprived and physically exhausted do not lend themselves to a rational state of mind for me.  Still my gut never fails.

For some reason that I can't put my finger on, my gut feels...off.  I can't tell you why or what it is exactly, but there is something there that is not at harmony.  I can't trust it to lead me in the right direction, I know this.  But I don't know why I know this.  I just know that something is off.  I feel like a compass with a broken magnet that no one knows is broken.  It says North.  There's no reason not to believe that the compass would lie.  It looks intact.  But somehow I know that the direction it's pointing is not really North. 

So today I'm standing still, waiting for the shift that brings everything back into place.