I miss the days when I had a baby to hold in the late watches of Night, when the house was still but for her crying—crying that only stopped when I picked her up and nestled her into the crook of my neck. She did not always readily surrender to the idea of sleep, so I would sway and hum, the sound vibrating from my heart to hers. Now my house is full of sleeping ones. There is no one to keep me awake at night but myself. I’m much more demanding than my girls ever were. I require an accounting of my day— my thoughts, my actions, my failures. I want to stop thinking altogether and merely breathe in and out, in and out, but my thoughts are not so easily soothed. There is no remedy. Who will hold me when panic sets in? Who will hum until I am asleep? My fear is a drum beating loudly in my ear, and the noise is too much for sleep. When all I can do is watch the numbers on the clock change, I remember the One who lives outside of time. He never slumbers, never takes a power nap. He is Power. What if I imagine myself as a child again, and He is my Father? Eternally awake, He gently hums while I lie curled up in His lap, my cares falling to the floor as my breathing slows and peace enfolds me like a blanket.
This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series "Sleepless."
Just too beautiful 👏🏻
This is lovely and I relate to so much of this!