It's late. For me, I'd even hazard to say it's very late. Now, of all times, my body has decided it just can't sleep. It seems crazy to me, but perhaps it's my way of stealing time that is just for myself, a commodity of which I have had very little of late. I attempted to go to bed half hour ago or so, and as I lay in the dark, listening to the night around me, I remembered to say my thank-yous. It's something I've been doing more or less regularly for...well, about twenty years now [crazy that I could have been doing anything for twenty years, but that's another entry, I suppose]. I always say 'Thank you for another day and please give me many more happy, healthy and safe ones'. Sometimes there's more, but at the very least, there's always that - but tonight it seems to have sparked a thought for me. It's not secret that I've been struggling lately, just trying to figure it all out and there have been more than a few times in the last couple of weeks when I have felt at wit's end due to lack of sleep. I feel foggy and overwhelmed somedays, I can read the same thing ten times and still not understand it, I lose my train of thought, I forget simple things - I'm desperately tired. It's been hard; it's well-known that one of the best, most widely used methods of torture is sleep deprivation, and so it's clear that I've been suffering and though I am insanely in love with Nahanni, I've been feeling really desperately in need of solutions to get more sleep, to get some separation from her. Tonight as I lay in the darkened room {Baby Sleep tip #457: keep nighttime rooms dark!} listening for the sound of my daughter's breathing in the cool fall night, I had a flash of insight. Those few simple words, that simplest of gratitudes called to mind for me something I recall from a book by the Dalai Lama, where he talked about living life as though every day were your last. I thought to myself - if I were to have no more days, would I not lament the energy I have spent worrying and fretting these few short months? If I were to die tomorrow, I would instead wish to have relished those seven little minutes I spent with her tonight at 11pm, holding her warm body in my arms as she nursed, her soft little hand sweeping the dark air in search of my face, her clumsy caresses, her mouth yawning in the dim light. I think suddenly those minutes would become among the most precious I've spent in my life.
One of the mommies in the mommy group I started here in this community (Raven Moms, Unite!) finally delivered her long overdue baby this morning, 2:11 am, here at home (inspired in part, she said, by my story and some of the other moms who'd had home births) and I popped in to see them and bring some things Nahanni had outgrown. There she was, holding this brand new little girl in her arms, 8lbs exactly - and I thought of how I was there just yesterday, wasn't I? But it wasn't yesterday; it was nearly six months ago already and so many of those everyday things you think you'll never forget have faded into the patina of the past, their edges softened like stone caressed by the steady hand of water.
So here I am. It's not perfect, but it's not horrible either. It's hard, but not impossible and no matter what - this too shall pass. I'm trying to live it happily, to stay in the moment and still push through. I'm trying not to feel overwhelmed by things that won't ultimately matter, by things that my memory will simply alter for me anyhow. Yes, I'm tired, yes I'm addled. But I am also incredibly lucky. I have a really amazing child for whom I am still the centre of the universe. She is happy, content, curious, funny. She has begun to search out my mouth, grasping my head in her tiny hands and pressing her wide open mouth to mine for the soggiest, most disgustingly wonderful kisses I have ever had. It is in those moments, wiping the slobber from my laughing face that I remember that it is all worth it.
Of course, I'll appreciate it even more when I've had a bit of shut-eye...seven hours, anyone? That's not too much to ask, is it?
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