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.