The Middle of the Night

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I’m toying with the idea of going back to the old-school-style blog post every now and again, from waaaaay back in the day when I was on Blogger, just sharing thoughts as I had them. No photos, nothing fancy, just dispatches from my life or my brain whenever they come along. This one came in the middle of the night a couple of weeks back, and I wanted the thoughts to be recorded somewhere before they escaped. If you like the idea or just the post, shoot me a comment and let me know. xoxo

Sometimes it seems like a good idea to write in the middle of the night. When nobody else is awake, not even the little newborn girl who’s nursing in my arms. When it’s quiet and my mind is both blurry and entirely clear, when I can hear myself think without the sounds of doorbells or toy car crashes or washing machines.

Sometimes in the middle of the night the words come easier. They fly out of me while my thumbs tap tap tap them out on my phone with the brightness turned all the way down so I don’t wake her. In the day I search for them endlessly, with feelings caught inside that are begging to be let out but are shy about being found during the light of day. During the night I can finally say what I mean to say, which right now is this: Babies don’t keep.

I can feel it already, these sweet days slipping away. Every day my toddler strings more words together. Now he walks into dark rooms by himself. Now he wants to put on his own shoes. Now he pulls his own chair up to the kitchen counter to help me wash dishes, slides them over to me one by one. Tomorrow he will be in college.

My newborn is barely a newborn any more, and looks at me with wide eyes and bright smiles like she already knows the world. How do you grow three inches in 10 weeks, little one? And I appreciate you sleeping at night but just sometimes, if you needed me to hold you a little extra, I wouldn’t be mad about it.

Stop, time.

In the night, when it’s quiet and the only motion in the house is me in the rocking chair with Maggie in my arms, every middle-of-the-night moment is worth it. Worth the bags under my eyes, the bone-tired days, the running to catch up with life. And even though my eyes almost won’t stay open I will them to do just that, to stay awake long enough to snatch another moment holding my girl or hearing my boy laugh in his sleep in the next room. These moments. These moments make us. They fill a heart enough to keep it going, swirl around our house and make it home, duck in and out of our days and make us family. xoxo

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