Last night Lo and I sat rocking in the Eames chair for quite a few of the early morning hours. She has been feeling sick for a day or two and last night she had a rough time sleeping.
As I was woken up several times during the night (and sat for long periods of time in the rocking chair,) I couldn't help but be reminded of this sweet ode to motherhood that I had just read by Keri Smith. She described those middle of the night experiences, where at one minute 'you feel bathed in frustration... and then sometimes even minutes later you are calm and peaceful again.'
It's nights like last night when you snuggle that little pajama body into your lap, smooth the hair over a warm forehead, give a back-rub, wash their face with a cool washcloth, offer clear liquids, rock ... and do pretty much anything else you can think of to provide a tiny bit more comfort to a little someone who just feels like crap and can't tell you why.
And no matter how tired you are, you are reminded of how special this motherhood gig is. You smile and kiss their hair and rock in the dark at 3 am, and take in these sweet days when you can still make everything better. When they actually ask to sit on your lap and welcome the excessive little kisses and hugs. The independent two-year-old who tells me 'no no no' and 'i do it myself' on a regular day is now just a sleepy, sniffly little girl who wants her mom. I rocked and rocked and rocked last night and reflected. Those newborn baby days are long gone. And nights like these are sometimes a reminder of how far we've both come.
I'm tired today, but I don't mind nights like last night at all.