This Too Shall Pass
Notes to Self for Today:
I won't always have a tired and yet sleepless baby in my arms from the afternoon straight through to the dark of night.
I won't be hearing little shrieks and seeing my baby's little body writhe in pain for every evening and night into perpetuity.
I won't always be gasping half-formed and desperate prayers to Jesus for strength and patience as the clock passes 11pm, 12am, and then 1am.
I won't always be falling asleep at 1am (or 2am) and wishing that the morning would never come.
I won't be on the verge of tears half a dozen times a day when it seems to my tired body and mind that I simply CAN'T be a good mother and meet the needs of both my colicky sleepless baby and my weepy, clingy toddler.
I won't always be looking into my newborn's crying face and yearning to take away the pain.
I won't always be longing for "just a half hour, Lord" when both my children are sleeping.
All this too shall pass.
I will survive.
Somehow.
And when I've tried everything and prayed every prayer and wished every wish and the morning's inexhorable approach fills me with dread, I can still, if I look, find these love letters from Him:
-- watching big beautiful snowflakes falling with my little Turtle
-- dancing to "Sweet Caroline" before breakfast
-- a long romantic kiss in the kitchen late at night
-- a (finally) sleeping baby's sweet milky smiles
Thank you for still being there, Jesus.
I won't always have a tired and yet sleepless baby in my arms from the afternoon straight through to the dark of night.
I won't be hearing little shrieks and seeing my baby's little body writhe in pain for every evening and night into perpetuity.
I won't always be gasping half-formed and desperate prayers to Jesus for strength and patience as the clock passes 11pm, 12am, and then 1am.
I won't always be falling asleep at 1am (or 2am) and wishing that the morning would never come.
I won't be on the verge of tears half a dozen times a day when it seems to my tired body and mind that I simply CAN'T be a good mother and meet the needs of both my colicky sleepless baby and my weepy, clingy toddler.
I won't always be looking into my newborn's crying face and yearning to take away the pain.
I won't always be longing for "just a half hour, Lord" when both my children are sleeping.
All this too shall pass.
I will survive.
Somehow.
And when I've tried everything and prayed every prayer and wished every wish and the morning's inexhorable approach fills me with dread, I can still, if I look, find these love letters from Him:
-- watching big beautiful snowflakes falling with my little Turtle
-- dancing to "Sweet Caroline" before breakfast
-- a long romantic kiss in the kitchen late at night
-- a (finally) sleeping baby's sweet milky smiles
Thank you for still being there, Jesus.
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