I've been reading this blog for some time now. The blogger, a mom of two daughters, writes about how she's trying to enjoy the small things in life amidst all of the craziness. She's inspiring. But I have to admit I usually just read her blog because she takes amazing pictures and does fun things with her kids. Makes me wish we lived in Florida.
But last week was a rough week with Micah. Thursday night for some reason he decided to wake up every two hours and be up for 1.5-2 hours. He was inconsolable at times (something we've never had to deal with--Mommy or Daddy can always calm him down). Even as an infant Micah was not up that frequently at night. To say it was a long night is an understatement. But Friday morning came, he took his usual naps and seemed to be his usual self. Brad had to work in Munster Friday night so it was just me and Micah. We went to my mom's briefly and ran to Archiver's so I could get some stickers to put in his scrapbook. We got home at bedtime. I was already feeling guilty because I hate keeping him out past his bedtime. But I thought maybe he'd be so tired he's just fall right to sleep.
I was wrong.
I fed him. I held him. I rocked him. I walked with him. I put him in his crib and let him cry for a few minutes. Nothing was working. When Brad called around 9:00 to see how bedtime went I pretty much bit his head off. "This is your fault! You told me it'd be okay if we went out!" (In actuality I knew it wasn't his fault, but I was so angry and needed someone to blame...getting mad at Micah wasn't helping.) I hung up with him to go try to console Micah and get him to sleep. Again. Then, as I was holding him in his room, feeling his body go limp and listening to his breath go from hard, fast sobs to the more slow, rhythmic breathing that only sleep can bring I started thinking about how precious this moment is. I was reminded of the Kelle Hampton blog. I should be enjoying this moment, not resenting it. Micah is my firstborn. The baby I've longed for for so long. He's so mobile right now that he barely slows down long enough to just let me sit with him in my arms so I should cherish this time.
And I did. I was no longer mad that I couldn't go downstairs and read my book. Instead, I was savoring the time with my son, thinking about how fast these past 8 months have gone and how much quicker the next 18 years will go. Someday I will look back on his life and the time we've spent together. I don't want to wish that I'd spent more time holding him, cuddling with him, telling him stories, getting dirty. I don't want to wish that I'd gotten off the computer, put down my book, or saved the chores for later. I want to enjoy every minute. I want to be reminded even in the trying times of how blessed I am to hold my little boy. I want to remember what a wonderful feeling it is to know that sometimes I am the only thing in the whole world that can bring him comfort. There are moments when all he wants is me. That's pretty amazing. For so long all I wanted was him, I don't want to forget that.
So, once he fell asleep, I held him for a little while longer, just stroking his head, thanking God for this wonderful gift, staring at him, kissing him, reminding him that Mommy loves him and always will. And suddenly the night was a lot less stressful.
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