i am blessed

found here.
last night was hard. it was one of those nights where, right when i was about to go to sleep, ollie awoke. i had put him to bed about three hours earlier and, despite his fever and imminent teeth, he'd gone to sleep without much trouble. but at 10:30, he woke up a very unhappy little boy. he was crying, gnawing on his teeth and just laying on his tummy in his crib (i am used to him already on his feet, peering over the edge of the crib by the time i go in). he also had one of the longest boogers i'd ever seen, just hanging out of his nose when i picked him up. delightful. i cleaned him up. i nursed him. i rocked him. i sang to him. i let him cry. i brought him into bed with me. (brian already foresaw it as a couch night for him - our bed is not big enough for all three of us.) nothing worked. he was sick, sad and just wanted to cry. it was really difficult; rarely has he been so inconsolable. there were times when, selfishly, all i could think about was when i would finally be able to go to sleep. i should've been thinking, praying to be guided to help ollie. i felt guilty afterwards, realizing that, like the quote above, motherhood is not a hobby. it is what God gave me time for, and i want to use that time to be a good mother.

just this afternoon, ollie laid beside me on the couch. he put his head on my shoulder and his hand on my face. lately, he has been learning to reciprocate love, to give kisses & hugs, and his little snuggle this afternoon made me feel so loved, despite feeling sleep deprived. his little voice, calling me "mama mama" has never sounded so sweet.

moments later, as i nursed him before his afternoon nap, i watched how the slits of sunlight streaming through the blinds played on his golden skin. i watched his sleepy eyes close, the downward pointing of his curtain of eyelashes, his hands clutching his soft blanket and i thought to myself, "i am so blessed to be a mama."

i love being a mother.

p.s. i read this today and it made me bawl.

"It just takes one little moment like that, a smile, a laugh, an arm flung around you, to remind you of what you felt the first time you saw your child."