I am tired. There are not very many tireds like the tired of didn't-sleep-while-pregnant, just-gave-birth, caring-for-a-newborn, and emotional-from-all-the-hormones. Until you have experienced this kind of tired, it is simply indescribable. Our new daughter is the best sleeper we have had yet, and she is overall the easiest. Don't let that fool you into thinking I said she was a good sleeper and easy, though. Newborns aren't good sleepers and they aren't easy. Some are just easier than others.
In the middle of the night last night, as I awoke from my half-asleep state that I am always in at night, I rolled over to sit up and retrieve my bundle of joy from her bassinet. It was the third time I had done this move during the night - it happens almost without my knowledge at this point. I grabbed the ever-trusty boppy pillow, placed my daughter gently on the pillow, and gave her the one thing that can always be counted on to solve her problems. Then began my nodding. That nodding that you can recall from the most boring of school days. That nodding that certainly never would happen to you during a sermon. That head nodding that is uncontrollable. This tired has taken over me. I can pretty much fall asleep anywhere. I nod off while breastfeeding, with my head slung over forward and my hair draping in her little face. I fall asleep with my head slung backward resting on the hard wooden bed frame. I have even fallen asleep for the two minutes that it takes my husband to change a diaper - that I asked him to do in the middle of the night so I could fall over, bent in half on the bed, with my head slung between my ankles - those two minutes were so worth it.
But last night, as I nursed her, I began to wake up more. For a few minutes, my mind was clear, the home was quiet, and I was alone in a house full of people. I glanced down at her - my child - and had The Moment. All mothers know the moment well. Being the mother of children who were both biological and adopted, I can assure you that this moment happens in both relationships...
The moment when you realize what it means to love this individual.
That moment is like a drug - the greatest, most high-inducing, God-given drug you can imagine. I looked at her face, as she nursed - completely calm, completely satisfied, and completely dependent. This child needs everything from me and her father. Her eyes were wide open staring right at me and right into the depths of my heart. Those eyes dug so deep in my heart at that very moment that it physically hurt to love her that much. Then, she was full, and her eyes began to blink a little slower until they closed tight. There I was, nestling my newborn into me, staring at her completely peaceful face, and I wanted to soak in every detail of that moment. I actually didn't want to go back to sleep. The drug was so good.
In our culture, two or three kids is seen as a good stopping point. More than three and you are just a little weird and crazy, right? I get it, sort of. Kids take a lot. Parents have to sacrifice - sleep, money, belongings, vacations, dates, etc. But I have to say, I would welcome one, two, five, ten, or a hundred more simply because of moments like last night. Maybe I am just a little weird and crazy.
Hello, my name is Kelly, and I am addicted to children...
