2:43 a.m.

It’s the middle of the night.  Or is it early in the morning? 

Call it what you will. . . I probably shouldn’t be blogging at this hour.

I usually blog before bed when the kids are sound asleep and the house is silent.  Last night, though, the exhaustion hit me and I collapsed into bed as soon as Meadow’s squawks subsided.  My thoughts were cloudy.  There was no way of sorting through my sleep deprivation.  I only remember thinking I’m not sure how long I can keep going.

What they say is true. . . in the light of the morning everything looks brighter.  It seems that this is true even for the very early morning hours.  At 1:30 a.m. Meadow beckoned for me.  My girl. . . she needed me.  There is no choice. . . we Mom’s have to keep going.  That’s just what we do.

As I sat in the darkness and stared down at my baby girl I felt a jolt that surpasses the energy-giving power that can be obtained by a 5-Hour Energy or Red Bull.  I felt that rallying cry from deep within me that called forth the Mom in me and declared you have all you need. 

As I stared down at the face of this precious girl I realize it’s true. . . I do.  I wouldn’t trade these late night feedings for anything.  I love the inherent trust she has that when she calls, I will be there.  I love the way she trusts so much that her eyes never need to open.  She rests in my arms and inhales what she needs. I know that she feels safe.  I stare intently to catch her when she raises an eyelid as if to say I’m just making sure you’re still there.

And I am.  I’m there. . . and I always will be because, put simply, that’s what we Mom’s do–we show up.

They say babies don’t smile until six or eight weeks.  I beg to differ. When she raises that one eye to see if I’m in my place, I watch as her eyelid falls again and the sides of her lips stretch upward in a wide grin just for me.  You can’t convince me otherwise. . . that’s her gift to me. An infant smile to remind me that all of it is worth it. 

No, I wouldn’t trade these moments for anything.