This weekend for some reason I was thinking of the hospital nightmare when baby Miles was only one week old. I remembered lying in that awful hospital bed, thinking my life might actually be in danger. It was terrifying, having to consider that I might not be around for my baby, that I might not have all the little family moments that life is really made of. It may sound melodramatic now, but at the time the fear was very real to me. I just kept thinking how happy I'd be if I could just go home, and when I finally got there two days later, I remember feeling incredibly thankful. I just knew I would never take my little family for granted again. I vowed to never underestimate the beauty in all the little moments. As I reflected back on all those feelings, I felt overwhelmed with gratitude and love towards my husband who sometimes frustrates me but is overall amazing. My heart was overflowing with love as I looked at my son, smiling in his sleep. I thanked God again and again for this gift of being a Mama.
Then all that gratitude and love was tested at about 11 pm when baby Miles absolutely would not stay asleep! After several feedings, countless rockings, soothings, burpings, and tummy rubs, he kept waking up crying two minutes after drifting off. I stood frustrated in the dark, listening to his cries, not knowing what to do to make it better. I was utterly exasperated and wanted to just sit on the floor and give up.
But then the afternoon's sweet moments of appreciation came back, and I mustered the strength to try again.
It seems weird, and sort of cliche, but I know that the hospital drama all happened to give me patience in the dark moments.