A Miracle I call Sleep

By a miracle that I consider far greater than the parting of the Red Sea, our daughter has slept 3 nights in a row for 8 hours straight.  EIGHT.  I will say I keep waking up waiting for the storm to break all night, but when I finally hear it at 5 am....I can never believe it.  The first morning I thought my watch was broken.  She went to bed at 9pm and NOTHING...nothing...until 5.  The second morning I definitely thought she was dead.  On the baby monitor she was as still as death and her normal noises....non.   (No in French.)

She was alive.

And I too am alive again.  It's amazing what not staying awake until midnight just rocking her to sleep, followed by wake-ups at 2, and 5 for feedings can do for you.  I wanted to dance.  Sing.  Cry.  Laugh.  I can't imagine anything that has ever made me happier than realizing I slept through the night.  A blessing I used to take for granted.

And so because of this blessed miracle....and trust me...I am trying to have zero expectations that it will happen again.  Because by now we (I) all know 3 days does not a pattern make.  But because of said miracle, I had time to turn my thoughts to a lighter direction today.

My Cora(zon) woke up this morning happy as a clam.  We laughed (happening more finally) and played, we ate and we even took a short 20 minute tummy time nap together on my bed.  She still isn't doing great daytime naps, and by afternoon she is pretty maniacal, but I enjoyed my time with her.  Because I wasn't insanely tired.

And as I enjoyed that time I was able to do what other mommies do.  I thought about all the things I loved about having a sweet little baby.

I thought about those first moments when I pick her up out of her crib and she is still a little sleepy and she cuddles in to my shoulder and gives me wee hugs while making her sleepy noises.  I thought about when she was just home from the hospital and how she would lay on my chest after I fed her and sleep for hours, and how she was so tiny I couldn't even feel her.

I thought about when she falls asleep in my arms,  and how she does her 'ol one eye trick of squinting open one eye every few minutes to check and make sure I am still holding her, and standing up before she closes it up and wriggles around to get comfy against my chest.

I love how tiny she was when she came home.  None of the preemie clothes fit.

I love how she puts one little hand into the neckline of my shirt and holds on for dear life.
I love her delicious baby smell.  After bath time.  Which doesn't last long because she is the queen of smelly farts.
I love how she stares at me like she is memorizing my face so she can remember who the important people are in her life.
I love how she takes one hand and grasps at my shirt, or rubs my arm or my hand.
I love how hard it has been to get her to smile, and how rewarding it is when she gives you a face-splitting one.
I love the fat rolls on her legs, arms and belly that are so squishable.

I love when she is laying in your arms, she puts one fist up to her chin and holds it there like she is "The Thinker." (Or she has just been really bored by us since day 1)

I love how when she finishes up a good crying fit and finally gets picked up how she lets out just a few more yelping cries that sound like she is telling me off, and letting me know I should take care of business a little faster next time.
I love that we named her Cora and I didn't realize until later that it is the first part of the word Corazon -which in Spanish means heart.  She is the first and best part of my heart.

I love her.  And I love that I am sane enough right now to be able to take the time to remember how much I love her and what a blessing it is that we got her, like Sarah and Abraham in my old age.


 I am not crazy enough to say that I love all the painful and heart wrenching, back breaking moments that a newborn brought in to my life - but I love her.  And when it hurts again, I want to come back and read this post and remember how grateful I am for a daughter.


Who one day (in her 20's) will be taking care of me in my senile old age and making her own list to remind herself why she loves the crazy, annoying old woman she calls mom.