As I sit here, my house is quiet with the gentle hum of breaths in the baby monitor. My exhausted husband is sleeping soundly in our room and all I can do is think of how wonderful life truly is.
At the same time, as this title states, the darkness begins to impede my thoughts.
Now I'm not referencing some metaphorical darkness or any kind of evil. It's simply physical darkness. And with the darkness, comes (what seems like) 8mm film projector reruns of my life. The beautiful moments. The moments I want to hold onto forever.
The day I met my husband and the day he proposed. Our wedding day. I'll always remember the morning we discovered we were expecting, and holding our little girl for the first time. I remember the day Tyler and I stood in the kitchen, holding each other while I cried, praying to see the precious heartbeat of our little girl that couldn't be found at our routine appointment. I remember the tears when we discovered she was a little girl and imagining the bows and ribbons I would buy.
While trying to come up with a witty tale of how our daughter made us laugh today (which happens on a more-than-regular basis) all I want to do is write. Un-criticized, unedited, and without any judgement. I will not proofread this as it is a memory. A feeling that I want to capture.
Tonight, when Kylie woke to be fed after going to bed far earlier than her norm, I became very nostalgic. I was holding my child who was so very soft and warm. Someone who is so trusting and calm. It just seemed like such a surreal feeling. A feeling that I just wanted to hold. To put in a frame so I can glance at every once in a while and know that this is what perfect is.
She had trouble going back to sleep because of her cough left over from RSV so I got to simply hold her. To stare at her. I carried my infant to the living room, turned off the lights, the tv, the computer, and my phone and I sat on the couch with the most perfect person I have ever met.
While this put me in a state of pure contentment, the darkness began to make me reminisce.
This couch that I am sitting on was, for a short while, my bed. The place where I laid awake the whole first night that Kylie was home because I was so scared. So nervous that she was our responsibility. I was in foreign territory. All I wanted to do as my eyes were begging me to fall asleep was to call the night nurses from the hospital and ask them how much I had to pay them to come over and watch Kylie so I could sleep.
When I looked over at the love seat, I remembered that when I decided the bassinet was too high relative to the couch and I needed her to be right next to me so I could simply open my tired eyes and make sure she was OK, it acted as her bed. I laid on the ottoman next to her, on the left side of my body, for an entire week. I didn't miss a single cough, sneeze, or whimper.
When I looked around the dark room, I remembered what once was. Once, we had a pack and play out here so we wouldn't have to change her in her room. Once, we had swings out here so we could hastily make supper without clinging to her. Only to rush to her when supper was finished. Once we had a bassinet out here so she could nap as near to us as possible.
Now, Kylie is sleeping in her crib. She sleeps 12+ hours a night and wakes up once (maybe twice) to eat, then is right off to dream land where she remains until morning. She eats more than I can supply and while it kills me to not be her sole source of nutrition, I'm happy she's getting all she needs to grow. To thrive.
She is such a happy baby. She is constantly smiling and now giggling and she even rolls over with such ease and flow. She holds my hand with both of hers when it rests on her belly as if pleading for me not to let go. When I put her in her crib tonight, she grabbed me as quickly as possible as if she knew I was going to leave, but begging me to stay. She wakes us with her giggles.
As I sit here in the darkness staring at our mantle, I can't help but to imagine our little family sitting near the fireplace. Playing, and laughing, and making forts with all the blankets in the house like I did when I was young. I imagine the sleep overs and the Disney marathons and smile in anxious anticipation.
As I sit here in the darkness, I can't help but to miss the days we had, and beg for time to stand still, if only for a minute. I want to remember the little things and celebrate them. I want to hold my baby for that extra minute and know that I didn't set her down too early. That I didn't rush to do the chores that needed to be done. Laundry, dishes, and work can wait. I want to bask in the beauty of motherhood.
We have so many beautiful memories. So much to appreciate. And we have so much to look forward to.
This is truly such a beautiful life. My heart is overflowing tonight...
As I sit here in the darkness.