Jewels

I've been in survival mode recently.  Yes, it's been busy since I've been back to work after my maternity leave, what with the never-ending to do list, the baby that insists on being held almost every hour of the day, and the many activities we tote our family to and from throughout the week.  These past few weeks, however, the challenges have intensified even further with the onset of some major sleep disturbances in our four-month-old.

Brooks' six-hour nighttime stretch that I had previously become accustomed to, recently shortened to four hours and then shortly after he turned three months old, his first evening with a babysitter somehow set off a pattern of waking every hour or two.  Every night.  Exhausting.  Utterly and completely.

I've seen this poem here and there a few times during the last several months.  And I'm pretty sure it has made me tear up every time.

I remember the deep sense of loneliness in the weeks following the birth of my first baby; the feeling that the sleepless nights and constant crying would never end.

But they do and it does.

And with each tiny newborn baby, I have become more and more aware of the fleeting moments I have while they're young.

And so this morning, both fresh from the second consecutive night of only one night-time feeding, Brooks and I made our way downstairs before the other two got up.  Shortly thereafter, my sweet three-year-old shuffled into the dimly lit living room.  As we plopped onto the couch with Elmo on TV, I closed my eyes and relished his warm hug and cuddles for a few minutes, remembering the early mornings from a couple years ago when the quiet house would be ours.

I then tiptoed to the children's room and softly peeked inside.  My spunky daughter was just starting to stir.  I swiftly climbed onto the top bunk and curled around my still-sleepy first born as she giggled conspiratorially about our girl time.

I feel like I don't, or even can't, cherish these moments as much as I want to.  Life gets in the way.  Chores need to get done; work needs to be completed; each child vies for my attention in demanding and draining ways.  But on days such as today, armed with a good night's sleep (and coffee, of course), I am trying to treasure each special jewel of time that will be gone all too soon.