Someone wakes you up. They crawl into bed next to you and they feel warm and snuggly as they touch your cheek gently. They start poking at your face, first your eyes, then your mouth...they kick you unintentionally as they wriggle full of energy, but it hurt. It's morning. You're tired--you fell back asleep for the fourth time only an hour ago. You never knew an hour could feel like 10 seconds. The smiling little face staring at you couldn't be any cuter, and this makes you smile as you snuggle that little person and breath in the scent of their hair. All you want is to lay there, fall back asleep with that person in your arms. Twenty seconds later the blankets are being pulled off of you. Pestering little hands are tugging at your limbs like they're strong enough to move them. That little person make a noise that resembles an awful lot like a demand and carries that unmistakable note of whine. You hear another noise, this one is a cry and you know that you can no longer delay getting out of bed. So you do, though every part of you is screaming to stay underneath the warm covers and give in to your tired eyes. You try your hardest to be awake as you move, though your legs feel like a hundred pounds each and your brain feels like its still lying back there against the pillow. You greet a wriggly little human and even though you just saw them an hour ago their little grin melts your heart. You pick them up and oblige to the other little hand pulling at your arm, directing you somewhere. You're tired, and you realize that its still dark out. You feel another tug and realize how much you don't like your limbs being yanked on when your brain can't even function properly yet. You hear more whine and you have a hard time knowing that the pitch is a result of the hour...you wish everyone was back in bed, sleeping. And then you hear something--that quite familiar unmistakable burp followed by rushing liquid. You smell it--acidity...old milk stench. Next you feel it--the unpleasant warming sensation as it seeps through the layers of your clothes and wets your skin. Another wave saturates you before you even get the chance to react. You're slimy. You smell. You have gunk in your eyes. You realize you still have throw-up on your arm from the ten times you got spit up on yesterday and wonder if you'll get the chance to shower off the new stuff today. Its dark outside, it's morning, your babies are awake.
This is just their way of saying "Good morning, Mom."
2 comments:
Oh wow, Kristy. Loved reading this! You are so good with words and I love the perspective you wrote this from. Almost from the outside looking in. You are going to look back on this phase of life and appreciate what you were able to get through. I think natural labor is empowering like people say, but functioning on little sleep, constant demands put on your body, mind and emotions and everything else that motherhood requires is also empowering. I really am amazed at what a mother can go through and still come out on the other side being gracious and present, which you are!
Thanks Anna! That's very encouraging to read. :)
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