She Sleeps

She sleeps - my child who gave up naps 6 weeks ago. I bested you. I forced you to nap so that we could go to the Ice Capades show tonight, which starts at your new bedtime.

I was giddy at the thought of this stolen time - maybe an hour to do whatever I wanted, as long as it was quiet. I could read. I could paint my nails. I could make rug angels on the carpet.

But what am I doing? I am standing over your sleeping form, marveling at the way your chest rises and falls with each breath. I am staring at the impossible beauty of your forehead. I am being brought to tears by the perfect half moons of your fingernails.

You have made my life impossibly hard and impossibly easy, many times all at the same time. Like any mother, I sometimes wish to be transported to a place where there are no demands on me to be anything to anyone other than myself. But, how quiet would my days be without your voice. How empty would my hand be without your little one tucked inside. While my sleep would be longer, it would not be as sweet to not wake up to your face.

I will hang in there with you as whatever you need me to be while you grow through this difficult time. I am growing with you, kicking and screaming at times (me), but growing nonetheless. For this I am grateful. Drained, but grateful.