Perspective

Last night Kenly had one of those nights, the kind that leave me sleep deprived and slurring words the next day. She cried out at 11:30, but managed to find "the trinity"--blanket, binky, and Benny--and put herself back to sleep. At 1:00 she started calling for Mama and sounding rather pitiful. I changed her soaking wet diaper and helped find "the trinity" and decided to try to put her to bed without a bottle. (Yes, she is still taking a bottle in the middle of the night.) Thus began the stubborn off. For over an hour, Kenly lay in bed making a sing-songy noise that nearly drove me bonkers. She had a 10 ounce bottle before bed, so there was no way she was hungry. I tried to bury my head. I tried to ignore her, but she won. I got up, with my blood just below boiling, and fixed her a bottle. She ate and then refused to go back to sleep. She cried for Mama. When I was just about to lose my patience, Erin and Salem popped into my head. I remembered that on Tuesday morning that precious baby (13 months old) died of complication related to croup. The detail have not been discovered yet. Only God knows what went wrong. My heart hurt, and I gained a heavy dose of perspective. Erin was probably up, sleepless and praying for just one more night of sleeplessness with Salem. She was probably bargaining....God, I'll never sleep again. I'll give my own life. Just give her back. So, I had an attitude change. I listened to the gentle grunts of Kenly taking a bottle, and they sounded like sweet music. I held tightly to my restless child who needed her mama to settle. I rocked and sang and thanked God for the precious gift he is allowing me to keep. I prayed to never have to feel the hurt that Erin is feeling right now. I told God that I'd love every sleepless night. I'd cherish the moments I have with Kenly. I'd relish in feeling her body slowly relax and drift into sleep. I'd store up every sleepy noise because these moments are fleeting.