It hit me

I woke up Monday morning after only a few hours of sleep strung together between feedings, rocking, crying and more feedings, when it hit me.

It could be years before I go back to getting regular nights of uninterrupted sleep.

It hit me.

I have only left the house four times during the entire month of December.

It hit me.

While everyone else seemed to be buzzing about from one Christmas gathering to the next, we had spent the holiday at home with only our little family.

It hit me.

I have spent the last three days in bed because the incision from my C-section, which should be almost completely healed after four weeks, was looking a little scary.

It all hit me at once, and I felt like I was going to lose my mind. I started crying, and I couldn't stop. My crazy hormones were finally pouring out of me like a flood. My head was spinning. And I was overcome by the need to get in the car and drive and find some people and have a conversation and laugh and eat food and just. leave. my. bedroom.



And then it hit me.

Some people live like this all of the time. They are slaves to their own physical restrictions. I started thinking about a talented musician we know who has been confined at home for years by a debilitating illness. I even started thinking about people held hostage, missionaries taken captive, people wrongfully imprisoned. (I warned you that the crazy hormones had taken over.)

And then it hit me.

Whatever situation someone is in, it's up to that person to choose to go on living. To make the most of it. That life isn't just about fun activities and what we are doing on the outside. But about how we are growing and where we are going on the inside.

We had made it to a pretty comfortable place in our family. Our three kids were old enough to get up in the morning and make themselves a bowl of cereal and play happily together without disturbing my sleep. We were done with diapers and feedings every three hours. We had just reached a point that it was getting easy.

And then it hit me.

I wouldn't trade any of that for this.



When I look at this face, I wonder who she is and what she will be like. And at the same time, I feel like I've known her forever.

It's been an adjustment. But it feels like she has always been part of our family.

Why would I wish away this quiet Christmas? It's been a rare treat to have a new baby in the house at Christmastime. It's the kind of Christmas at home we've always thought about when we've been on the road traveling dark highways through snowstorms.



And haven't I always dreamed of spending three days in bed while someone else took care of the kids and the dishes and the laundry and the cooking?

And when will I have another chance to spend a month inside? Not aloud to run errands. Not able to go anywhere. Just spending time with my family.

And then it hit me.

For now, for this time, it couldn't get much better than this.

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