My Insomniac

I said I wouldn't complain about the sleepless nights...

but I lied.

I am a big fat liar.  

Ask my Facebook updates every morning at 3:00 am how I feel about the world.  

Or, better yet, don't, unless you want to see how selfish and ungrateful I can be.

The thing is, it's really hard to be a nice person when you're exhausted.

And I really want to be a nice person, since I spend every moment with a precious, innocent being that is perfect in every way.  I don't want my frustration to rub off on her or for her to somehow feel like I don't like her.  I want her to always know how much I love her, how I would wake up 47 times a night for the rest of my life if that's what it took to keep her.

(No promises that I wouldn't complain about sleep deprivation, though.)

It's tough to be tired, to spend more time each day trying to put a baby to sleep than all of your other activities combined.  But this isn't some job where I sit at a desk and pull staples for hours on end.  (True story.)  This is motherhood, a job that is eternal, yet fleeting.  I am the keeper of Clara's memories.  I am the one that changes all the diapers, quiets all the cries, and gives away my everything.

I love her so much that sometimes I pick her up just to squeeze her, to try to remember how she smells.  I often find myself wishing that I could bottle up my memories and later relive them, like Dumbledore.  I tell her over and over how much I love her, even though I know that she doesn't understand those words yet, somehow hoping that she can absorb my meaning and carry it with her as she grows.

On those exhausting nights (like tonight) when she stops eating and I hope that she is asleep, she looks back at me with bright eyes and gives me a smile that's bigger than the world.  She has the greatest capacity for love and forgiveness... I want to be like her.

I read a quote today that said something like, "Enjoy getting to know your children while they're young, because you will spend the rest of eternity with them as adults."  This thought makes me want to try so much harder, to cherish every mundane moment.  And the only thing that makes this thought bearable is the hope that I will have a perfect memory in the eternities, so perfect that I will be able to recall every detail of my sweet Clara.

I will try to remember all of this tonight at 3:00 am.