Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Back to Baby.

It’s Tuesday.  Beautiful Manda’s funeral will be held on Thursday and we are eager to celebrate her life and who she was and what she stood for.  Please continue to be in prayer for all of her loved ones.  I cannot even begin to imagine what those closest to her are going through, especially her husband, Aaron, and their children. I cannot imagine how hard it will be for those babies to grow up without their mother.  And I think those feelings have triggered something in me to want to go back and remember my own precious memories with my kids.

So, I’ve been going through my old blog (no longer published) and reminiscing/crying/laughing at my life back then.  Some of the posts are totally cringe-worthy.  I sound so young and so naïve that it’s just embarrassing.  (This is why it is no longer a public blog.)  But it is still there for me to remember in private.  There were 459 published posts and another 70 that I had started but never finished for one reason or another.  I love that I have them all there whenever I want to look back.  I am instantly taken back to that exact point in time and I hope that this blog will be the same (except maybe not as embarrassing.  Fingers crossed.)

I wrote the following blog post about 8 years ago.  My firstborn (Matthew) was 10 months old and I was a new mom, completely in love with her baby boy, completely loving her new life and completely exhausted.  I hadn't read this in so long but reading it today took me right back to that moment.  I know a lot of you will be able to relate so I wanted to share...

3:47 am. I am awakened by the whimperings of a squirmy baby on the video monitor next to my bed. I reluctantly roll over, click on the screen, and check out the status of my now 10-month-old son. I watch for a couple of minutes, listening to him start to cry and whine as he army crawls his way to every corner of his crib, flopping over several times to see if he can get comfortable, then deciding that, no, he most definitely, is not. I sigh lightly and look over to see if my sweet husband (of 4 years today) has awakened. I'm almost positive he is hearing what's going on but, like most nights, he's stayed completely still, with only the change in his breathing being the giveaway. I know this game too, babe. He finally rolls over and asks "Who's getting him?" and I say that I'll do it. "Thanks," he says, and drifts back to sleep, just like that. I throw back the warm covers and pull on my fuzzy robe as I quietly leave the bedroom.

Going into the living room I see Abby and Odie, our Jack Russell Terrorists, asleep on our new couches that we have adorned with old sheets so they don't get dirty. Defeats the purpose of showing off our new furniture, I know, but what can you do? I catch a glimpse of Odie, sleeping, of course, on the forbidden spot- on top of one of the back cushions of the couch. In a hushed but no-nonsense tone I tell him to get down. He raises his head to look at me for a moment before lowering it back down, heaving a deep sigh...and not moving one inch. I'm not in the mood for a fight so I leave him and head upstairs to my now sobbing baby.

As I quietly open the baby gate at the top of the stairs, I start to smile. Strange as it seems that hearing my baby scream sometimes makes me grin, I realize it's because he is screaming for me. His mommy.  And it makes those middle of the night wakings so much more bearable.

I enter his darkened room and am greeted by a tearful little boy standing up in his crib, knees bouncing up and down as he realizes I've finally come for him. I shut the door behind me to keep it as dark as I can and go to him. He reaches for me instantly and I pull him out.  He immediately stops crying, lays his head on my shoulder and wraps his legs around my waist. I stand there swaying with him in the dark, one arm under his tiny bottom and the other draped over his back, my hand smoothing his soft hair. It's moments like this that I realize what life is all about. It's moments like this that make me realize how incredibly blessed I am that I am able to be with my son every day and night.  I silently pray that I can give all of our future children this same devotion, day in and day out. But at this moment I find it hard to imagine ever being able to love anyone else as much as I love this precious boy.  

I take my little baby and we sit in the glider next to the crib, his arms and legs both tightly holding on to me, like a little koala bear. I hear the quiet sucking noise coming from his pacifier as he lays with his head on my heart. I realize that I don't want to move. I want to stay in this moment forever. I look down and can see the faint outline of his beautiful face and think to myself that in a blink, he will be too big for me to hold him like this. Or too big to WANT to be held this. He has grown so much and so fast in the past 10 months. Every milestone he hits brings both joy and sadness because I see that my little baby is going, going....only a short time before he is gone and in his place will be a little boy. Every day with him has been more joyful than I ever thought it could be. And it just keeps getting better.

After 30 minutes of silent rocking, I realize I actually do need to get back to bed. Reluctantly, I slowly stand, still holding the seemingly heavier child (now that he's sound asleep) in my arms and take the few steps to the crib. I stand next to it for a few more seconds, relishing in the sweet silence-just me and my sleeping son, and then finally lay him down. He rolls immediately over to his tummy, army crawls to the corner of the crib, and positions himself into his most comfortable state. Arms tucked under tummy? Check. Extra pacifier within reach and another in his hand? Check. Tiny tush pointing to the sky? Check Check. I back out towards the door slowly, hearing nothing but the whirring of the fan, open the door, take one more glance towards the crib, then silently close it with only a soft click. I head back downstairs, past Abby and Odie (who is still nestled into my new couch cushion) and climb back into bed next to my snoring husband.  As I pull the warm covers up under my chin, I click the monitor screen on one last time just to double check, smile to myself as I see that sweet baby boy sound asleep and then drift off myself as I gear up for another day as Mom.



  1. This post is beautiful!! I came to it from today's blog. I have a 13 month old and two older and these nights are many, but so so special!

    1. Thank you so much!! I'd give anything for another night like this one!! :(


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