i'll start this post by saying it's six in the morning, i am writing from an emotional place of exhaustion and anxiety and there is not a lot of poetry to be found here.
to be perfectly honest, these past few days (weeks?) have been rough and emotionally taxing. at seven months, gus has reverted his sleeping patterns and is up around fifteen times a night. fifteen. in a six hour span, that's once every twenty-four minutes. how is that even possible.
i really can't quite explain in words how tired we are, especially after having many blessed months of a baby who slept through the night. how quickly i took that blessing for granted and how quickly i've forgotten what that feels like. it is definitely a reminder for me to never go without thanking, especially when things are good.
it is incredible how startling it is to wake up abruptly, even if you know that in a half hour, you are going to do it again. and again. and again. i can only explain our efforts in the middle of the night as amateur, delirious and purely instinctual. i don't even need to turn on the lights, it's just me moving through the dark to tend and soothe.
since gus was a baby, he has slept primarily in a moses basket, right next to my side of the bed. recently and quite quickly, he has devoured every inch of this basket, head to tippy-toe. left to right. top to bottom. we have both loved this moses basket ~ not only because it seems so deeply old world and beautiful, but it represents a time when my baby was small enough to sleep in a basket, beside me, every night, a finger touch away.
recently, we transitioned him into his crib which is still by my bedside. i haven't taken kindly to this transition, as the crib is large and bulky and not nearly as beautiful and convenient. to me, it feels like shedding a layer only to be replaced with heavy armory. it reminds me of those first few days in the hospital with him, when i wasn't quite sure how to navigate, when it felt like something strange and beautiful and otherworldly landed in my lap without a map and i was told to take a breath and dive in, never knowing when or how i'd come up for air. but as a parent, you just magically figure it out. truly. by some greater force, you figure it out, mainly because you have to, but primarily because it becomes you.
life with a baby is beautiful and exhausting and hard. there is no sugar-coating that.
it. is. hard.
but if i were to be dangled above my life like the ornaments on our tree, i would shout with all my being that it really is just so god damn beautiful. and i love god, so i can say that.
it is because of this beauty that i am scouring the internet trying to find a cure for this sleeplessness. after reading about the incredible sleep easy solution method, we begin sleep training tonight. i can't tell you what the thought of sleeping through the night is doing for my soul. even the very thought of it is exciting, so i can only imagine what will happen to my outlook once i am actually, you know, sleeping.
despite our communal exhaustion, we headed to our favorite coffee shop and to a christmas tree farm down the road yesterday. it felt so good to be out, in the cold air, filled eternally with the spirit of christmas, even with deep bags under our eyes. this season is especially beautiful because it focuses so much on what's already inside. what we need, we are given. what we desire, we already have. the burdens of our hearts are only challenges we were already journeying to face. i am tired, yes. more than i've ever been, in all my life. but then again i remember that quote by mark twain that said that man was made at the end of the week's work when god was tired, and i ease up, because out of exhaustion sometimes comes a new awakening, a renewal and a rest that we have always needed.