Time for some honesty, folks. It's been a challenging week with Jane. She's been exceptionally fussy, won't take good naps, wakes up crying during the night, and insists on being held.
By me.
All. The. Time.
The other night she woke up screaming, and as
soon as I picked her up, she stopped. Put her back down-- mad as a hornet. Picked her up-- silence. I don't remember how many times this repeated that night or how
long she cried in between, but eventually, feeling frustrated and slightly manipulated, I rocked her until she fell asleep in my arms.
And as she slept there like a rag-doll, breathing deep baby breaths and nuzzled up against my chest, the frustration faded and I realized that these nights are numbered, that she will not always fit in my arms or on my lap, and that someday
I'm gonna miss this.
When I'm in the kitchen trying to cook dinner or wash dishes, and there is someone pulling on my pants and crawling up between my legs, I tell myself that someday I'm gonna miss that my sweet baby girl
just wants to be with me.
When I'm trying to go to the bathroom, for goodness' sake, and even then she is climbing up my legs, trying to stick her hand in the toilet, I tell myself that one day, I'm gonna remember these moments with fondness and
miss even this.
When I drop her at the YMCA childcare or church nursery and get called back because she's screaming
again, I realize how special it is that
I am her mama, the one who makes everything right again, and that there will be a day when she doesn't need me anymore. Or worse yet, when simply holding her won't be enough to fix what's wrong. I'm gonna miss this.
Thank you for needing, wanting, and loving me so well, Janie Bear. I love you to pieces.
