Monday morning: it's been a week and our little guy, A, has decided that he is above sleeping. Or napping. Or being content. He has good moments, sure, but he certainly is not himself. For the first time in 14 months, I feel pretty confident saying this little patch is teething. Afterall, I can actually see molars and eye teeth pushing through with white little points and I'm guessing that can't feel good. What also doesn't feel good? Not sleeping. Any of us. And being nine months pregnant & not sleeping = a deep sense of worry. What will I do when there are two babies? So, as I cuddle A to sleep and remind myself that all of parenting is more or less a 'phase' I ask myself, what am I modelling for this child? What am I teaching him? I hope he is learning that he is deeply loved. On top of that, I am trying to show him that we read, that we play outside, that we snuggle and that there is no greater gift than love. But when all you want to do is drift off to sleep all day long, it is hard to remember parenting is an amazing honour and not a tiring burden.
Pride and Prejudice is far and away my favourite book. But when Elizabeth and her Darcy don't fit the bill, I often turn to another life long friend--Anne of Green Gables. Particularly Anne of Avonlea and Anne of Ingleside, two in the 7 book series about Canada's favourite willowy red-head. It was a good thing that I re-read (okay, skimmed for the parts that make my heart swell) Anne of Ingleside last week. Now a mother, Anne finds herself living with the big adventures of little souls (as well as some classic Anne-Gilbert interaction) and spends a good deal of the book reflecting on motherhood. She talks of chubby knees, velvet elbows and grasping hands that are so incredible, so lovely and so worth loving. When A is crying in his crib and B and I are both living in sleep deprivation I listen hard to the words of Anne as she reminds me that this little man (and his soon-to-be sibling) are worth every minute. What are a few hours of my night? What are long hours of my day? What else is more important than nurturing this little soul? Yes, my sanity is up there because that is what I need in order to do the nuturing, but motherhood has made me find that sanity at a deeper level. Strength from new, deeper sources. Although Anne Shirley and her little brood are ficticious and not a terribly well balanced look at motherhood, they are nonetheless an example of seeing beyond the precarious moment and remembering that this second is fleeting and worth savouring.
Not that I think he needs to be spoiled--his newest baby sign language sign is 'please' and we are pretty insistent on responding to 'please' over the point-and-grunt that A so prefers to use. I also know that sometimes he just has to cry and that you don't learn to walk without falling. But when he is in pain, a little fevery and distressed, what else can I do? Perhaps you have ideas. But in the moment, all I have is my instinct. Thank goodness for books that remind me of truth beyond myself.
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